


stars in your eyes (we’re halfway there)

by someoneyouloved



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Angst, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, basically lots of fluff and angst and banter, but they’re in love sooo, oh god so much angst, should be fun right, they’re both idiots, this is gonna be a long one folks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24692638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someoneyouloved/pseuds/someoneyouloved
Summary: “You’re playing dirty,” JJ hissed through gritted teeth, fighting to regain control of himself, which was kind of impossible when she kept moving against him like that.“That’s the game,” Kiara said, eyes heavy with lust as she lowered her lips to JJ’s chest, leaving a line of kisses from his neck to his hips. “But I have a feeling you can play ever dirtier.”“Oh, sweetheart,” he crooned, rubbing circles above her hipbones with his thumbs, smirking when she had to bite her lip to hold back a groan. “You have no idea.”—or the jiara fake dating celebrity AU y’all never knew you needed
Relationships: JJ & Kiara (Outer Banks), JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks), Kiara/Rafe (Past), Sarah Cameron & Kiara, Sarah Cameron/John B. Routledge
Comments: 62
Kudos: 270





	1. i need you to breathe new life into me

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my new jiara fic!! i’m so so excited for this, i wanted to explore kiara’s love for music and this concept just jumped into my head. i know jj wanting to be an actor may seem a little ooc, but i’m still trying to play with the characterization in this fic, so please be patient with me lol. also i promise that this is a slow burn, even though they fucked in the first chapter lmao. hope y’all enjoy, and please tell me what you think! comments and kudos are always appreciated :)
> 
> loosely inspired by the tv show the arrangement.

**Who is Kiara Carrera? Everything you need to know about Hollywood’s newest It-girl.**

“Kie, are you listening to me?”

“Of course,” Kiara said, not taking her eyes off of the dolphin she was drawing in the margins of her notebook. It looked too much like a whale— she was trying to fix it. 

“That’s a lie. And you’re a terrible friend.”

Sarah was in the closet, trying on dresses for her appearance at her father’s award ceremony tonight, but her voice carried into the bedroom, reaching Kiara where she was lying on the couch by the window, doodling sea animals to distract herself from her failure at writing song lyrics. 

Her lack of progress was really Sarah’s fault, because her couch was so damn comfortable. Or maybe it was her decorator’s fault. She doubted Sarah Cameron had ever shopped for furniture at IKEA and assembled it herself. 

Not that the couch was from IKEA. She was pretty sure it was a Fendi Casa— only the best for the Princess, as Sarah’s dad would say. 

The Cameron Family were Hollywood royalty. Ward Cameron, Sarah’s father, was a three time Oscar nominee and one of the industry’s most influential actors and producers. Her parents were divorced, but her mother, a retired actress and model turned interior designer for the rich and famous, still co-owned Tannyhill Studios, the acting agency Kiara was signed with.

“Ah, yes, found it!” Sarah squealed from the closet, appearing in the doorway a moment later holding a floor-length, white dress with a ruffled skirt. “What do you think? Is this Hollywood Walk of Fame worthy?”

Ward was being presented with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame tonight, and Sarah had spent the past two hours obsessing over what to wear. Kiara didn’t understand why— Sarah had followed in her mother’s footsteps, and was now a popular model and fashion blogger with over forty million followers on Instagram and more campaigns than Kiara could keep track of. Every piece in her closet had been chosen with the same level of care as Anna Wintour selecting the theme for the Met Gala, and Sarah had the ability to make even sweatpants and old band-tees seem glamorous. She couldn’t have picked a bad outfit if she’d tried.

Kiara had signed with Tannyhill Studios when she was nineteen, but she hadn’t met Sarah until nearly a year later at a celebrity fundraiser for marine life conservation. Kiara’s acting career had just begun to take off, and the adjustment to her new life of cocktail parties and red carpets had been difficult, which had resulted in her having a minor panic attack in the bathroom. 

That was how Sarah had found her: sitting on the bathroom floor in a custom-made Ralph Lauren dress, her cheeks stained with mascara and struggling to breathe.

Even then, Sarah was _somebody_ , and Kiara had recognized her immediately. She’d seen her on dozens of magazine covers, in the family photos on the desk in Ward’s office. And while publicly humiliating herself was a talent of hers, having a mental breakdown in front of her bosses daughter had been a new low. 

She had expected Sarah to laugh at her, or leave without saying a word and tell one of the hyena-like reporters waiting just outside the door that Kiara Carrera, the girl from the small, poor town in North Carolina who had somehow stumbled her way into the role of Hollywood’s newest breakout star, was crying in the bathroom. 

But Sarah had sat down beside Kiara on the grimy bathroom floor, offered her a tissue, and started telling her about the time she’d swam with sea turtles in Hawaii. Once Kiara had been able to breathe again, Sarah had made sure she looked presentable for the cameras, and then she’d had her driver take them back to her apartment, where they’d spent the rest of the evening baking cookies and watching reruns of 90’s sit-coms in the living room. 

It was the first time since she‘d come to LA that Kiara had felt like she’d _belonged_ , and honestly she didn’t know if she would have survived the past three years without Sarah Cameron.

“Gold or silver?” Sarah asked, having disappeared into the closet again. Before Kiara could respond, she returned with a matching set of silver hoops and chokers, tossing her warm, honey-brown curls over a shoulder as she studied her reflection in the mirror. It was the kind of look that screamed _daddy’s little girl_ , which was likely what Sarah had intended, and Kiara knew every tabloid and fashion blog would be raving about it by tomorrow morning.

“I still don’t understand why you’re refusing to come tonight,” Sarah said, pouting at Kiara, an expression that should have been unflattering but was honestly just adorable. “You’re going to make me suffer through an entire evening of Cameron family time _alone_. And if you’re not there, who’s going to save me from getting hit on by my dad’s creepy, drunk work friends?”

It was a dirty tactic, since they had both rescued each other from far too many awkward, perverted encounters with men twice their age, but Kiara had already told Sarah that she wanted to stay in tonight. It was the first evening she’d had all to herself in weeks, having instructed her assistant to clear her schedule despite her mother’s protests, and she’d told herself she would dedicate the time to song-writing. But then Sarah had called and said it was a fashion emergency, so Kiara had camped out at her place for the evening. 

“I already told you, I’m not feeling it tonight,” she said, ignoring Sarah’s disappointed expression. “I need to work on this.”

“You mean the blank piece of paper you’ve been staring at for the past two hours?” 

Kiara threw a pillow at her, but Sarah dodged it with ease. It wasn’t like Sarah was wrong, though— she was convinced the blank notebook page was purposefully taunting her, and she was still trying to convince herself that moving past this writer’s block was even worth it.

In her mother’s opinion, music was a waste of time. Kiara was an actress, that was her _thing_ , her ticket to fame, and she needed to capitalize on it while directors and producers and the media still considered her a hot, young commodity. Music was a hobby, something that was always put on the back burner, despite the fact that when Kiara had moved to LA five years ago, it had been to become a musician. It was all she’d wanted— a contemporary R&B double album inspired by her life in the Outer Banks. 

It had been her dream, and it had just belonged to _her_ , because her parents didn’t approve of her moving across the country to pursue music. Until her mother started talking to one of her old high school friends who worked at Tannyhill Studios, and then she was buying a plane ticket to LA and Kiara was shoved headfirst into the acting world. 

It had started with guest appearances on tv shows, then a few indie films, and had ended with her breakout role starring in a coming of age drama called _Starstruck_ , an adaptation of some YA novel about a girl who wanted to be a pop star. Kiara had fit the part perfectly, almost ironically so, and it had been an opportunity for her to showcase her talents as both an actress and a musician. It had done well at the box office, and been a major player during award show season— Kiara had won the MTV award for best breakthrough performance. 

It wasn’t that Kiara didn’t like acting, it just wasn’t what she’d come here to do. And if she was being honest, she was bored.

So, here she was, staring at a blank piece of paper and ignoring the three missed calls from her mother and the unread scripts in her purse. 

“Are you sure that’s the _only_ reason you’re not coming tonight?” Sarah asked, and Kiara’s head snapped upwards at the knowing tone of her voice. “It wouldn’t have something to do with my brother, would it?”

Kiara had no idea where the stereotype for dumb blondes came from. Sarah was too damn perceptive for her own good.

Her friend seemed to take Kiara’s silence as an answer, and she sighed, crossing her arms and turning around to look at her. “Kie, you can’t let him control you like this. He’s my brother, you’ll have to see him eventually.”

“I know,” Kiara murmured, the words tight in her throat. “But it doesn’t have to be tonight.”

Rafe Cameron was Sarah’s older brother, a charismatic playboy who loved pretty girls and fast cars, a byproduct of Ward Cameron’s fame. He was a total douchebag— and he also happened to be Kiara’s ex-boyfriend. 

She still cringed when she thought about it— how she’d hooked up with Rafe at Sarah’s annual Fourth of July party, let him compliment her and take her on fancy dates at expensive restaurants, wrap an arm around her waist on red carpets.

It had been fine, at first. Was she in love with Rafe? No. Was he a nice distraction? Yes.

Needless to say, it had ended badly, like all things did when Rafe was involved. Badly as in a blowout outside her apartment at two in the morning, entirely documented by paparazzi and involving more than one shattered beer bottle and Kiara slapping Rafe across the face.

Of course, Rafe had gotten off easy, his publicist smoothing things over with the press, but that hadn’t prevented the breakup from being front page news on all of the tabloids. 

_Kiara Carrera has emotional fight with boyfriend— does the young star have a violent streak?_

She’d read various versions of that headline for weeks, and of course, Rafe’s name was barely mentioned. 

That had been three months ago, and she was still avoiding him. And Sarah was right, she shouldn’t let him affect her like this, but she couldn’t help it. 

Sarah’s annoyed expression faded when she saw the look on Kiara’s face, and she moved over to the couch, pressing a kiss to Kiara’s cheek and running her fingers through her hair. “Sorry, Kie, I don’t mean to push. I just... I hate that you let him get to you like this.”

“I know,” Kiara whispered, avoiding Sarah’s concerned gaze. “I’m just tired, that’s all. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sarah hesitated, as if she didn’t want to leave Kiara alone, but her phone chimed and Kiara knew it was her driver telling her he was outside.

“Go,” she urged, forcing a smile onto her face. “I’ll be fine!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Sarah said, grinning at her as she tossed her lip gloss and phone into her clutch. “I’ll let the genius get back to work. Don’t have too much fun without me.” 

The door slammed shut behind her, and then Kiara was alone.

She slammed her notebook shut, threw it onto the floor, and rested her head against the back of the couch, staring out of the floor to ceiling windows behind her. The setting sun was reflected in the surface of Sarah’s pool, the edge of which dropped off to reveal a stunning view of downtown LA. The early morning fog had burned off hours ago, leaving a vast expanse of skyscrapers and apartment complexes. Kiara had lived here for five years, and she still wasn’t used to it. 

It was in moments like this where she felt as if she was living someone else’s life, that the mixed-girl from the Outer Banks who loved to fish and perform at open mic nights at her parent’s restaurant couldn’t have possibly made it to where she was now.

It’s the kind of story people hear all the time, and she knows she should be beyond grateful, and she _is_ it’s just...

_You never would have made it in this town, Kiara. Not without me, and not without my family. Remember that when it all crashes and burns around you._

Rafe had screamed those words at her in the parking lot of her apartment complex three months ago, and she’d promptly slapped him across the face. He’d said a lot of things that night, but for some reason, that was what had stuck with her.

And she hated herself a little bit for it, but she couldn’t help but think that it was true, and that no matter what she did, everything she’d worked for would eventually be taken away.   
  
**Ward Cameron honored with star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame— but where is Kiara Carrera?**

“You know, I would pay good money to see Kiara Carrera slap Rafe Cameron in the face.”

JJ scoffed, rolling his eyes as he worked to balance two trays of drinks and run a credit card. Technically, John B was supposed to be helping him, but his friend was leaning against the counter and stuffing his face with chocolate from the kitchens, watching an E!News broadcast about Kiara Carrera’s absence from the ceremony honoring Ward Cameron at the Hollywood Walk of Fame. John B ate that shit up— JJ had no idea why.

“You know, you might have money to spare for that if you actually did your job,” JJ told him, prompting John B’s gasp of outrage.

“How dare you?” He asked, glancing at his watch. “You know, you’re going to be late.”

“I know, I know,” JJ sighed, handing him the tray of drinks and running a hand through his hair. “I just need to finish running this guy’s card and then I’m done.”

“Forget about the card,” John B said, shoving him away from the computer and towards the door. “I’ll take your table. You’re supposed to be auditioning for a Kiara Carrera movie like _now_ — that girl has a killer right hook, I wouldn’t make her wait.”

“I’m sorry to break your little fanboy heart but I’m not _actually_ meeting Kiara Carrera,” JJ reminded him, shrugging on his leather jacket and checking to make sure his bike keys were still in his pocket. “It’s just an audition, one I don’t understand how I even got in the first place.”

“It’s called potential, JJ, look it up,” John B quipped, and even though his tone was teasing, JJ knew he meant it.

When he’d moved to LA two years ago, he’d just been a kid from a small fishing town in South Carolina with a pipe dream of becoming an actor. He’d found a flyer posted by someone who was looking for a roommate to split rent on an apartment in downtown LA, called the number listed, and that’s how he and John B became friends.

John B was native to California, and he was quite content with his life as a part-time surf instructor part-time waiter, but he had always supported JJ’s acting with an endearing level of optimism.

“Good luck, sweetheart!” John B called over his shoulder as JJ slipped out the back door and into the alleyway behind the cafe. “Tell Kiara I say hi!”

JJ rolled his eyes again— he’d meant what he’d said. He had no idea how he’d even landed this audition, but maybe the inflated fee he paid his piece-of-shit agent was actually starting to be worthwhile.

JJ had loved acting since he was a kid, and he knew that almost everyone was a struggling _something_ in LA, but these days it felt like he was barely keeping his head above the water, running towards some invisible goal that even he couldn’t see.

But JJ had been running from one thing or another his entire life— this wasn’t any different. 

**Kiara Carrera to star in new Tannyhill Studios film High Tide— a story of love, adventure, and surfing. Get all the details here!**

Kiara was lucky that she’d grown up working at her parent’s restaurant, doing her homework at the counter between shifts and memorizing the lines to school plays while stocking the storeroom, because it had taught her how to multitask.

It was a necessary skill in her line of work, such as right now, watching audition tapes with her mother while she was being fitted for a photoshoot.

It wasn’t like she had a particularly active role in either task— she just tried on whatever the stylist handed her, like the red miniskirt and white, see-through blouse she was currently wearing, and listened to her mother critique every person who appeared on the flat-screen tv.

Kiara still wasn’t used to this. Not just the fittings and the photo shoots, but making decisions that affected other people’s lives. Four years ago, she was no different from the people whose auditions her mother was judging, just another struggling actress who took any opportunity that came her way. 

They’d spent the morning going over her itinerary for the next month, a task that was almost always painful. Her mother tended to overbook her, but today Kiara was out of excuses, because she’d canceled three events in the past month to avoid seeing Rafe. Her mother had been sympathetic at first, but apparently she’d had enough, because TIFF was next weekend, and since a movie Kiara had guest-starred in was premiering, she had no choice. She was going, and that was that. 

Then, the stylist had arrived for her fitting, and her mother had started going over the audition tapes sent by the producers of the new movie Kiara was starring in. It was a film about a young woman native to Hawaii who had a natural talent for surfing and wanted to compete at Nationals. It was the kind of movie that was meant to inspire people, make them think their dreams were possible. Kiara played the main character— a savvy, outspoken girl named Akela. Honestly, she was excited about it. She’d talked with the studio, reached out to an organization called Black Girls Surf, who worked to reshape the stereotypes surrounding people of color and surfing, and asked if they would be interested in doing an interview with her about the film. She was surprised her mother agreed— Kiara’s interest in activism was always a touchy subject. 

They didn’t start shooting till January, but the studio was already on the lookout for someone to play Kiara’s love interest. They wanted a new face, and since Kiara was the leading name on the project, she got a certain amount of say in who they cast. 

Or, to be more accurate, her _mother_ got a say. Her current favorite was a tall, polished looking boy with pale skin and perfectly cut brown hair. In Kiara’s opinion, he looked like a stuck-up asshole. He keep glancing at his script, too— he obviously hadn’t memorized his lines.

“Not that one,” she said, tugging her shirt over her shoulders and taking the black crop-top the stylist handed her. 

“And why not?” Her mother asked, not looking up from her phone. “He’s attractive, has parents in the industry. I think I met his mother at a function once.“

Of course, this was another opportunity for her mother to make connections. Typical. 

“I’m the one who has to kiss him,” Kiara reminded her, slipping a pair of gold hoops into her ears. “Shouldn’t that count for something?”

“Fine”, her mother sighed, tapping the screen of her tablet. “Next one. But you have to pick _someone_ Kiara.” 

A boy with tousled blond curls and piercing blue eyes appeared on the screen wearing a leather jacket and an ACDC shirt, glancing once at the script in his hands and then folding it over. 

The casting director asked for his name, and he said, “JJ, er— Jack Maybank.”

“I don’t know who this is,” her mother said, already scrolling on her phone again, as if she couldn’t even be bothered to pay attention.

“I thought the studio wanted new talent.”

Her mother ignored her, but Kiara was focused on the boy’s audition. He was _good_ , better than anyone else they’d seen. It wasn’t just the fact that he knew his lines, it was that he seemed... authentic. There was no front, no calculated persona. It was refreshing.

 _He’s cute,_ said a voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Sarah. _Totally nailed the rugged-surfer-boy aesthetic._

Fine, maybe she did have a thing for blondes. But that wasn’t the point. He was the first person who’d actually made her feel something, and she didn’t want to pass that up.

“I don’t need to see anyone else,” she told her mother, who jerked her head up, staring at her in surprise. “I want him.”

“Kiara, this isn’t a joke. This is serious—“

“I’m not joking,” she snapped, meeting her mother’s gaze head-on. “He’s the one. End of discussion.”

“Fine,” her mother sighed, typing something into the spreadsheet on her tablet. “I’ll add his name to the list, but you better be right about this.”

**Kiara Carrera shares the inspiration behind her unique style, and how she manages to balance acting and charity work with her busy schedule. Read the interview here!**

The sound of JJ’s phone ringing woke him, and he buried his face in the couch cushions, a pounding headache already forming at his temples from the amount of weed and tequila he’d consumed the night before.

John B had brought home a few of the girls from his surfing class, and things had gotten a bit... out of hand. He was fairly sure he recalled doing body shots off of one girl’s stomach at some point— or maybe it had been John B’s. 

Honestly, JJ had just needed a distraction, and the pretty blonde girl who he couldn’t remember the name of now had seemed happy to provide. She was still lying on the pullout couch next to him, one of her bare legs draped over his own. 

“JJ, your phone,” John B groaned, tossing a pillow at his head.

JJ was too tired to retaliate, and he reluctantly opened his eyes and got to his feet, squinting against the sunlight coming through the apartment windows as he scrambled to find his phone. 

He found it on the coffee table, next to an empty bottle of Patrón and a hot-pink bra he was pretty sure belonged to the girl lying on his couch. He glanced at the caller ID, fully intending to hit decline and go back to bed, but then he saw who it was.

Groaning and closing his eyes, he accepted the call. This had better be good.

“Hello?” He said into the phone, wincing at the volume of his own voice. John B mumbled at him to shut up. JJ ignored him. 

“You’re not still sleeping, are you?” Asked his agent, a middle-aged woman named Jeanine who’d taken a chance on JJ when he‘d come to LA. Which he appreciated, but he was still convinced that she was scamming him with how much she charged for her services. Especially since he’d never actually been _cast_ in anything. 

“No,” he lied, running a hand through his hair, frowning when he pulled out a clump of grass. What the _hell_ had they gotten into last night? 

Jeanine sighed, obviously not believing him. “Look, kid, you better start doing whatever actory shit you need to get ready, because you’ve only got two hours.”

“Until what?” He asked, yawning and falling back on the couch. 

“Until you read with Kiara Carrera.”

 _“What?”_

“Yep, I did it. You got the callback!” Jeanine cheered, as if this was good news. Well, it was, but today was really _not_ the day. 

“No, no, no, that cannot be today,” JJ told her, even though he was already scrambling to his feet and searching a shirt. “I’m hungover as fuck, I can’t do it.”

Jeanine laughed, as if he’d made an amusing joke. “Oh, that’s hilarious. But stop screwing around and focus, because today’s the most important day of your life. Remember, two hours. Break a leg.” 

She hung up, and then JJ was left sitting on the floor of his living room, head pounding and clutching his phone in his hands.

 _Shit_. He was so, so screwed. 

**Kiara Carrera on her role in the upcoming film Thinking Out Loud, an emotional drama about love and loss, set to premiere at the Toronto Film Festival.**

“So, do you want the good news or the bad news?”

Kiara frowned at Sarah, who was standing in the doorway to her bathroom, wearing the Prada shirt and Reebok’s from her latest photoshoot. Her friend had been busy lately— it seemed like the only time they saw each other was when one of them was getting ready to go somewhere. “What are you talking about?”

Sarah tilted her head to the side, studying Kiara. “Why are you wearing your hookup outfit?”

“My _what_?” Kiara asked, momentarily distracted from whatever news Sarah had wanted to tell her as she examined herself.

It was a fitted denim skirt and a black crop top— how the hell was that a _hookup_ outfit?

“Your hookup outfit,” Sarah repeated, nodding her head like this was obvious. “That skirt makes your ass look great. We’ve discussed this.”

“It’s just an outfit, Sarah,” Kiara said, rolling her eyes as she started applying another layer of mascara in the mirror. “And I’m ashamed that you’re complying with the patriarchal stereotype that girls can only wear nice clothes when they want to get guys.”

“Guys or girls, I don’t care,” Sarah said with a shrug. “I’m just saying... this wouldn’t have anything to do with that hottie you’re reading with today, would it?”

Kiara almost poked herself in the eye with her mascara brush. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

So, she _may_ have put a little extra thought into her outfit today. But it didn’t _mean_ anything. 

“Wow, that’s believable. You know, I think you may be in the wrong profession, Kie. Because your poker face is shit.”

“The good news, Sarah,” Kiara prompted, eager for a change of subject. 

“Oh, right,” Sarah said, shaking her head, and Kiara was suddenly thankful for her short attention span. “The good news is that I snagged Rafe’s itinerary for TIFF, and he’s staying at a different hotel than you.”

If that was the good news... “The bad news, Sarah. Out with it.”

Sarah hesitated, as if she regretted bringing it up altogether, but then she seemed to decide to just get it over with. “His table is next to yours at the opening dinner, he’s scheduled for press at the same time as you are, and the movie his girl of the week is starring in is screening two hours after yours.”

Kiara loosed a unsteady breath, fighting to keep her hands from shaking. Her gaze flicked to the full bottle of anti-anxiety pills on the counter. She’d been diagnosed with anxiety in middle school, and it had only gotten worse since she’d moved to LA. She still went to therapy when she had the time, but the medication they prescribed always made her tired and gave her a headache. She hadn’t taken it in weeks, but maybe she should, just for the festival...

No. This was fine, this was normal. People interacted with their exes all the time, why should she be any different? 

“It’s fine,” she told Sarah, ignoring how tight her voice sounded. “You were right, I have to see him at some point.“

Sarah was biting her lip, as if debating if it was worth it to question her. “Are you sure? You could call your assistant— have the seating arrangements changed, back out of doing press. It wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“And have the tabloids reporting that I’m a narcissistic diva who can’t be in the same room as her ex-boyfriend?” Kiara asked, already shaking her head as she slipped on her heels and grabbed a leather jacket from the hook by the door. “No, they’ve been reporting on the breakup for weeks and they’re hungry for new information. I don’t want this to be a thing— I’ll deal.” 

Sarah sighed, though she didn’t look happy about it. “Fine, but if Rafe makes you uncomfortable, kick him in the balls for me, will you?”

Kiara laughed, hoping it didn’t sound too forced. The truth was, she couldn’t risk another altercation with Rafe. The media had run the story about her slapping him in the face for weeks, and she didn’t want to ruin the buzz surrounding the movie with her stupid relationship drama. 

“Maybe this _JJ Maybank_ will fall madly in love with you, and then he can be your date,” Sarah suggested, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “That would be one way to shut my brother up.”

Kiara scoffed, rolling her eyes as she passed Sarah and headed out the door. “You’re delusional.” 

“Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, Kie!” Sarah called over her shoulder, which Kiara didn’t even dignify with a response. “Love you! Remember to use protection!”

Kiara didn’t know what Sarah was talking about— it was a chemistry test, that was all. 

And falling in love was the last thing on her mind at the moment. 

**”Riara” calls it quits— everything you need to know about the couple, and their emotional breakup.**

JJ couldn’t tell if the nausea he was experiencing was a lingering effect of his hangover, or if he was just nervous. 

He’d had callbacks before, but this felt different. He was actually reading with the headlining star of a movie, and while he had teased John B about his fascination with Kiara Carrera, he was weirdly intimidated by the idea of meeting her.

His hands were itching to play with the lighter in his pocket, but he doubted the receptionist, who had taken one look at JJ in his leather jacket and dirt-covered boots and gave a disapproving sniff, would appreciate it. 

He kept checking his watch, studying the sides he’d been given without really reading the words. He started tapping his foot, but the receptionist glared at him, so he stopped. 

Then, someone called his name, and he stood on unsteady feet, forcing his heart rate to slow. This was ridiculous— JJ didn’t _get_ nervous, and when he did, he hid it well.

Stepping into the audition room was the easy part: his name was called, he resisted the urge to correct them from Jack to JJ, shook hands with the casting director, read his lines, they told him he’d get a call, and then he never heard back. He was used to it, and he told himself not to expect anything different. 

But then he saw Kiara, and all of his thoughts went right out of his head. 

He didn’t want to be _that_ guy, the one who met a girl and would only stare at her boobs or her ass while she was talking, and he’d seen Kiara in magazines before, had known she was gorgeous, but it still caught him off guard. 

She was pretty, of course, but it was more than that. He’d gotten so used to the skinny, blonde girls with perfect teeth that came to his surfing classes that the sight of Kiara with her curves and dark skin and long, curly hair was slightly disarming. 

She was standing with her back to JJ when he entered the room, and he’d expected a nod of acknowledgement at most, but when she saw him her eyes lit up and she gave him a warm, easy smile. It wasn’t the least bit forced, and something in his chest unraveled at that. 

She reminded him a bit of the girls from his hometown, except that her leather jacket probably cost more than JJ’s rent and she carried herself like someone who was used to being watched, to people evaluating her every move.

“Hi, I’m Kiara,” she said, holding out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.“

JJ hoped that he was able to keep the surprise off of his face, because he wasn’t used to pretty girls being genuinely happy to see him, and Kiara had just introduced herself to him as if everyone in the room didn’t know who she was. 

“Oh, yeah, you too,” he said, shaking her hand, praying that he didn’t sound like a complete idiot. “Uh, should we sit?”

“Whatever you want,” she said, shrugging, the nose ring she was wearing catching in the sunlight. He couldn’t tell if she was wearing makeup, or if her eyelashes were really that long. 

It took JJ a moment to remember that he was in a professional setting, and that this was not the time to be getting _dewy-eyed_ over Kiara Carrera. 

_Snap out of it, JJ._

And he did, because he knew his agent had been right when she’d said this was a big deal. 

The scene they were running took place at the end of the film, when Kiara’s character Akela was nervous about competing at Nationals and JJ’s character Kai, her best friend and love interest, was telling her that he believed in her. It was emotional, leaning towards the sappy-love kind of bullshit JJ usually scoffed at, but meeting Kiara made him want to fuck it up even less.

“Kai, I don’t know if I can do this,” Kiara murmured, the raw emotion in her voice so different from the warm smile she’d worn a moment ago. 

Of course, she was good. _Better_ than good— which JJ had expected, but it was a still a little nerve wracking. He forced himself to get over it, to focus and tap into Kai’s head.

“That’s bullshit, Akela, and you know it,” he said, his tone determined, unwavering. “You can do this, I know you can.”

“How? How do you know that?” Kiara asked, her eyes wide, as if JJ, no _Kai_ , held all the answers. 

“Because you’ve never backed down from a challenge a day in your life. Because you’re strong, and brave, and you never give up. That’s why—”

JJ faltered, even though it hadn’t been in the script. It felt right though, to take a breath before he said, “That’s why I love you.”

This, JJ remembers, is when they’re supposed to kiss. 

And it’s stupid, but Kiara is watching him with this unreadable expression on her face, and JJ leans forward an inch, far too aware of the sudden, strange tension between them. 

A woman sitting on the couch with long, brown hair and an expensive-looking pantsuit clears her throat, and just like that, the invisible bubble surrounding him and Kiara popped. 

There was the rustling of papers, someone telling JJ they would call him. Kiara was still staring at him, but JJ avoided her gaze. God, she probably thought he was some sort of weirdo... or had his performance just been so bad that she was at a loss for words?

She didn’t say goodbye when JJ smiled at her before turning and walking out the door. He mentally scolded himself for being disappointed, what had he expected? She’d likely met a thousand people just like him— he was nothing special. 

He was approaching his bike, keys in hand, squinting against the sunlight and debating if he should invite John B for after-audition-drinks, when he heard someone calling his name. 

He turned around, and there was Kiara Carrera, standing in the parking lot and looking almost nervous. 

“Hey Jack, wait, that was—“

“JJ,” he corrected her without thinking, biting his tongue a moment later when he remembered that people like Kiara Carrera didn’t bother learning nicknames. “I mean... it’s just JJ. If you want, that’s what I go by—“

“That was _amazing_ JJ,” she said, smiling at him. “You were amazing, I mean.”

The comment was enough to stun JJ into silence, which was a rare occurrence. “Oh, um, thanks—“

Kiara didn’t seem phased by his sudden inability to talk like a normal person, but he figured she was used to people losing their cool around her. “Well, I just wanted to thank you for _literally_ making my day. And for, you know, behaving like an actual human being.“

JJ decided he must be having an actual out-of-body experience, because there was no way Kiara Carrera was talking to him and saying _he made her day._ If John B could see this, he would lose his shit. 

“Thanks,” he said, searching for an appropriate response to her compliment. “You were great, too. Obviously.”

Kiara beamed at him, and once again he was caught off guard by how goddamn beautiful she was. God, what the hell was wrong with him?

He expected her to leave then, but she didn’t, shifting from foot to foot and biting her lip. “Nice bike,” she said, nodding at JJ’s motorcycle. “Can you drive it, or is it just here to make you look cool?”

Normally, JJ would have responded to the dig with one of his own, but for some reason all he said was, “Uh, yeah, I can drive it. Why do you ask?”

He tried not to think about how _uncool_ he sounded. The bike was usually a talking point with girls, but the girls he talked to were never pretty, famous celebrities, so there was that. 

“Because I’m taking you to lunch, and we need a ride that’s faster than my mother’s Mercedes,” she said, as if it was obvious, grabbing the spare helmet off the back of JJ’s bike and strapping it onto her head. 

When JJ didn’t move, standing frozen in the parking lot and blinking at her like an idiot, Kiara smirked and tossed her hair over her shoulder, patting the seat of the bike. “‘Cmon, I don’t bite.”

Maybe this was some hangover induced hallucination, because there was no way Kiara Carrera had just hijacked his motorcycle and invited him to lunch. 

“Are you coming?” Kiara asked, and JJ realized that he still hadn’t moved. “Because I will steal this bike, and you will be responsible when I’m involved in a hit and run on Melrose.”

It was a joke, he realized, and JJ huffed a laugh. Okay, so Kiara Carrera’s sense of humor was slightly morbid. Noted.

“Are you sure?” He asked, scratching the back of his head and looking back towards the building. “Won’t you be missed, or something?”

“Oh, definitely,” Kiara said sagely as she nodded her head, not seeming the least bit concerned. “But that’s the fun part.”

Her expression was mischievous as she bit her lip and glanced at him over her shoulder. “So, are you coming or what?”

JJ might have no idea what was happening, but there were a few factors about the situation that made his next decision obvious: cute girl on his bike asking for a ride, and the potential of free food. 

He climbed onto his bike, slipped the keys into the ignition, and ignored how his heart jumped when Kiara hopped on and wrapped her arms around his waist. 

“Hold on tight,” he advised her, still trying to calm his racing heart and ignore how nice it felt to Kiara have pressed against him. 

If she was thrown off by the bike’s speed or JJ’s habit of taking sharp turns with little to no warning, Kiara didn’t show it. In fact, with her leather jacket and curls that kept whipping in the wind, she looked more like a random biker chick than a world famous actress. 

She was giving JJ directions, but the wind was roaring so loudly that she had to lean forward and whisper in his ear. Her breath was warm against his skin, and JJ hoped that she wouldn’t notice the goosebumps that appeared on his neck, and that if she did she would blame them on the wind. 

For a moment, JJ felt like he was just riding on his bike with a cute, random girl, but then the paparazzi arrived.

They were like a swarm of insects, cameras flashing as they screamed Kiara’s name and surrounded them. Cars started honking, annoyed at the disturbance, but the men and women brandishing the cameras didn’t seem to care. They were, however, pissed off by the helmets obscuring JJ and Kiara’s faces. 

They were all shouting, and even JJ was finding it overwhelming— how the hell did Kiara deal with this all the time? 

_“Kiara, is it true that you cheated on Rafe?”_

_“What’s the story behind your absence from the ceremony? Are you and Sarah fighting?”_

“How did they find you?” He asked, shouting over his shoulder as he swerved to avoid a passing car. 

Kiara swore under her breath. “They must have followed me from the studio— here, turn here.”

JJ took a sharp turn onto a side street, the paparazzi falling back as they weaved through the alleyways per Kiara’s instructions, eventually arriving at an empty, sun-lit parking lot. 

JJ cut the engine, tugging off his helmet as he examined their surroundings. The lot seemed to be located behind a line of buildings, slightly run-down but all painted in bright, vibrant colors. It was the last place JJ would have expected Kiara to take him to.

“What are we doing here?” He asked her, ignoring her windswept hair and adrenaline-filled grin. God, she was pretty, but he was going to move past that.

“I told you, lunch,” she said, hopping off the bike and handing JJ her helmet before running her fingers through her hair, shaking out the curls. She started walking towards a teal-colored building, then paused when she realized JJ wasn’t following her. “You coming?”

“Is this the part of the movie where I find out that you’re a serial killer who targets poor, handsome blondes? Am I your next victim?”

Kiara sighed, as if she herself was disappointed, shaking her head. “Nope. I hate to disappoint, but I haven’t reached that level of insanity yet.”

“Shame. This face would look great on a missing person’s poster.”

She laughed, and JJ ignored the urge to make her do it again as he pocketed his keys and followed her inside.

When Kiara opened the door, the smell of frying oil and herbs flooded JJ’s senses, and he realized he was standing in a restaurant. It was small but clean, seemed to serve a variety of Mexican food, the kind of place he and John B might go after a day of surfing. Not stereotypical Kiara Carrera stomping grounds, but he was starting to get that this girl wasn’t at all who he’d thought she was. 

JJ liked unusual girls, and it had never been a problem before now, but this... JJ had a strange feeling that this, _whatever_ it was, was going to get him in trouble.

But he’d always lacked a sense of self-preservation, and there was a cute girl offering to pay for his lunch, so he sat down. 

The restaurant was empty, but the restaurant owner, a short, stocky Hispanic man with a warm smile and soft wrinkles around his eyes came out to take their order. JJ didn’t even have to touch his menu— Kiara ordered fish tacos for the both of them. 

“Ensenada’s Fish Tacos. They’re the best in the city,” she explained as she handed off the menus, the man smiling at them and shaking his head, though JJ could tell he was flattered. “Trust me, I know.”

“I have to say, this isn’t what I would have expected,” JJ confessed, hoping she wouldn’t find it offensive. Then again, he didn’t get the impression that Kiara gave a damn what people thought of her. 

“Oh? What did you expect?” She asked, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Six courses and a white tablecloth? I didn’t realize _JJ Maybank_ was such a snob when it came to his dining habits.”

JJ snorted, because nothing could be further from the truth. “What _should_ I have expected? You’re not exactly the kind of girl who has to look at the price tags on menus.”

“Good fish tacos transcend five-star ratings,” Kiara said, before pulling a plastic sleeve containing a metal straw from her pocket and plopping it into her water. 

JJ raised his eyebrows at her, staring pointedly at her drink. 

“Oh, shut up,” Kiara said when she noticed what he was looking at. “I’m saving the turtles— did you know that over a thousand of them die each year from plastic waste, it’s disgusting. I wanted to sell them, to like raise awareness, you know? But my mom—”

She stopped talking, going slightly red, and JJ got the impression that this was the point where most people lost interest. “Sorry, I’ll shut up now. But if you use that plastic straw, I _will_ strangle you with it.”

JJ made a point of moving the plastic straw away from him and taking a sip of his water. He watched as Kiara tucked a loose piece of her hair behind her ear, the sunlight that was coming through the windows turning her curls different shades of scarlet and gold. 

“What is it?” Kiara asked, and JJ realized that he’d been staring. Shit. “Do I have something on my face?“

“Oh, uh, no, it’s just—“ JJ stammered, trying to find a better explanation than _you’re really pretty and I don’t know how to handle this._ ”It’s just... I never thought you’d be like a real—“

He stopped talking, mentally slapping himself in the face for what he’d been about to say, but Kiara just smiled, as if he’d given her a compliment. 

“A real human being?” She finished for him, laughing at JJ’s nervous expression. “Relax, I don’t blame you. With how much the tabloids photoshop me these days, I surprised people can even recognize me.”

There was a subtle bitterness to the remark, but JJ didn’t think they’d reached the stage where they discussed that sort of shit. No, he was just the distraction, an excuse to escape her busy, suffocating life and share fish tacos with a random boy who had no strings attached— he had no famous parents, was unidentifiable to the tabloids. It was perfect.   
  
A waitress brought out their food, and it might just be because JJ hadn’t eaten all day, but they _were_ the best fish tacos he’d ever had. 

Kiara watched as he took his first bite, lips curling upwards into a smirk when he groaned and stared at the taco in disbelief. “Told you. They’re good, right?”

JJ nodded, too busy inhaling his food to answer her. 

Kiara smiled, her expression nostalgic. “This was the first meal I had when I moved here. I was eighteen, it was the summer after high school, and I had just driven across the country by myself when I got to my apartment and realized that the realtor left me the wrong set of keys. It was three in the morning, I was exhausted, and I was crying in my car when I saw the sign that said fresh fish tacos, twenty-four hours. Haven’t been able to top them since.”

JJ hummed, tried to reconcile the photograph of Kiara he’d seen in a magazine with the girl in front of him, avocado smeared on her lips as she stuffed her face with fish tacos. 

“Alright,” she said once she’d finished, slamming her hands onto the counter. “It’s your turn.”

“What?” JJ asked, frowning at her.

“Your story,” Kiara prompted, nodding at him, eyebrows raised. “What’s the deal with JJ Maybank? You’re attractive, good at acting, and you drive a motorcycle. How have I never heard of you before?”

JJ shrugged, trying to ignore the fact that she’d called him attractive. He wasn’t used to people asking him about himself, but Kiara seemed genuinely interested. “Nothing new. I moved to LA from South Carolina, wanted to be an actor. Now I’m working three jobs and taking any audition I can get. So, living the dream, you know?”

“Wait, you’re from South Carolina?” Kiara asked, her eyes lighting up. “I knew I recognized the accent. I’m from the Outer Banks.”

“I know,” JJ told her, going red when he realized how creepy that sounded. “Er, no, I mean I just— my friend reads the tabloids, and I—“

“Relax,” Kiara said, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her drink. “You’re so jumpy, you know? What’s the problem? Not used to talking to pretty girls?”

“Oh, is that what you are, Carrera?”

Kiara smirked, opening her mouth to retaliate, but then her phone chimed and she sighed, sliding it from her pocket. 

“I have a meeting to go to,” she said, rising from her seat, tossing a hundred dollar bill on the table. He tries not to let it rub him the wrong way, the ease that laces the action. “It’s with an old friend of Ward Cameron’s— can’t say no, sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” JJ stammered, hating how flustered he sounded. Of course she had to leave, why was he surprised by that? 

But Kiara was halfway towards the door when she turned around, brown eyes flickering mischievously, and said, “Do you want to come?”

•••

When Kiara had asked JJ to go to her meeting with her, he’d assumed he’d be waiting outside of a conference room or attending some fancy dinner. 

He hadn’t expected an airplane hanger, or the private jet that had taken them to _Mexico_. 

Kiara had raised her eyebrows at him, because JJ had just stood in the middle of the tarmac, glancing back and forth between her and the plane and practically pinching himself. Because there was no way he was going on a private jet with Kiara Carrera. He’d never even left the country, didn’t have a passport— a fact Kiara had brushed off with a wave of her hand, as if it was nothing. 

And there was no way he was now lounging by a pool with her in fucking Yucatán, Mexico, the city he’d had a sticker of on his suitcase since middle school. 

The house was apparently one of Ward Cameron’s many properties, a modern-style white stucco building on the side of a cliff overlooking the ocean, with perfectly coordinated furniture in shades of cream and orange. It was the kind of place where a speck of mud on the floor may be punishable by death. JJ felt strangely underdressed in his jeans and t-shirt, self-consciously stamping his boots on the front steps. 

Not that Kiara seemed to care. She’d thrown open the door, spun around in the front hall, laughed at JJ’s dumbstruck expression. 

And now, sitting by the pool in a black bikini and red swimsuit cover-up, flipping through a magazine and sipping a Mai Tai, she seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that JJ was just waiting for someone to realize he didn’t belong here and kick him out.

Not that there was anyone here to do it— as far as he could tell, they were entirely alone.

He was trying not to think about the implication of that, which was odd, because usually JJ would have already taken advantage of the pool and open bar and king-sized bed to sleep with whatever pretty girl he was with, but for some reason he didn’t want Kiara to think that he only saw her as an object, or a fucking notch on his bedpost or something. 

Still, there were moments where he thought that she might be thinking the same thing. Like when she’d grabbed his hand as the plane took off, because JJ had never flown before and couldn’t control the nervous energy running through him, when their fingers brushed as they both reached for the bottle of champagne on the plane, how she smirked at him over her shoulder when she was making herself a drink at the bar.

It was peaceful and relaxing, sitting there on the edge of the cliff, staring out at the ocean, a soft beat blasting from the speakers Kiara had hooked up to her phone, and JJ didn’t want to ruin it, but he had to ask.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Kiara’s head shifted towards him, eyes wide, as if she was surprised by the question. “Oh, uh, I don’t know. I guess I just needed a distraction, and you’re one of the only people who hasn’t gotten on my nerves today, so...”

It could have been his imagination, but he was fairly sure she was blushing. “Really? Because I’ve been known to have a world-renowned talent for getting on people’s nerves.”

Kiara laughed, throwing her head back and rolling her eyes. She took his drink to the bar to refill it, and JJ tried to act unfazed when her fingers brushed his when she handed it back to him. 

She changed the song, and _Cola_ by Lana Del Ray came on. Kiara started dancing, humming the lyrics under her breath. 

Her gaze found his, and JJ didn’t look away, didn’t pretend that he hadn’t been watching her. 

He was typically good at reading signs, at knowing when a girl wanted him, but even though Kiara bit her lip and beckoned him closer, he still hesitated. Because this felt different, more personal than a random hookup, and he had never imagined that he’d be sleeping with _Kiara Carrera._

But fuck, she was hot, and gave off that whole badass chick who didn’t take shit from anyone vibe, and those two factors were like kryptonite where JJ was concerned. 

So, he stood, downed his drink in one go, the whiskey burning his throat and settling in his stomach as he walked towards her. Kiara was still dancing, grabbed his hand when he got close enough, a grin spreading across her face. 

The sun was shining above them, turning Kiara’s curls golden when she threw her head back and laughed as he spun her around. It was fun, more fun than he had ever thought hanging with a rich, famous actress would be.   
  
Then the song ended and _Hold_ by Vera Blue started playing, the beat slowing as Kiara stopped spinning and jerked to the halt in front of him. She was still smiling at him, cheeks flushed and gleaming with sweat from the humid air.

Kiara moved closer, until their faces were inches apart, her brown eyes sparkling like the sweet iced-tea he would drink during hot summer days back home. 

Their first kiss was barely a peck, Kiara leaning forward to brush her lips against his, retreating when JJ’s breath hitched. 

He saw Kiara bite her lip, the hint of apprehension in her eyes, like she thought he would tell her to stop. 

JJ couldn’t understand why. She was _gorgeous_ and kind and funny and her lips tasted like pineapple and rum, soft and steady against his. He’d kissed dozens of girls before, a number of which he’d forgotten the names of now, and it wasn’t like his past experiences had been bad but... damn. 

“I’m sorry, I—“

JJ didn’t give her a chance to finish, pressing his lips against hers, the kiss lasting longer this time but still just as gentle. He didn’t want to freak her out, didn’t know how far she was planning for this to go. Maybe this was it, the moment she pushed him away, sent him packing while she laughed about the poor guy who’d thought he had a chance with Kiara Carrera.

But Kiara didn’t do that. Instead, she raised a hand and placed it on his cheek, her thumb brushing the bottom of his lip, and JJ couldn’t control his sharp intake of breath, the shiver that traveled through him despite the warm air. 

Their eyes met, and the heat JJ saw there was all that he needed to surge forward, his hands grabbing her waist and pulling her closer as their lips crashed together. She gasped into his mouth, and JJ’s desire spiked. 

_God, yes,_ he thought, her lip between his teeth and a groan rising in his throat. Their gentle kisses turned needy, frantic, and JJ’s hands went tight on her waist, until they were chest to chest.

“Should we—“

“Inside, now,” Kiara hissed, her nails digging into his skin. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, smirking at the whimper she let loose as their lips parted.

He wasn’t exactly sure how they got inside, how they managed to open the glass door and find their way to the bedroom when Kiara’s hands were all over him, when it was almost painful to stop kissing her. 

He pulled back for a moment as the door slammed shut behind them, prompting another whimper to fall from Kiara’s lips, some instinctual satisfaction rising in his chest at the sight of her swollen lips and messy curls. He liked her like this: imperfect, tousled. It felt like he was pulling back a curtain on her life, the side of her the tabloids and paparazzi didn’t get to see.

She just smirked at him, her warmth leaving his hands as she walked backwards until her legs hit the back of the bed. JJ followed like a dog on a leash, matching her step for step. 

Then, he was standing over her, watching as she raised herself onto the bed, her legs between his, his arms braced on either side of her.

He hovered there for a moment, fighting the tension that lined every muscle in his body, the need to have his lips on her skin and her hands on him, and said, “Are you sure?”

She answered with a kiss, her fingers in his hair, tugging on his curls, pulling him closer. It was filled with the same desperate wanting he was feeling, the energy vibrating across his entire body, and JJ was more than happy to reciprocate. 

His hands slipped under her coverup, the thin material soft against his skin, and Kiara shivered. He leaned down slowly, making sure that she saw his every move, and pressed a kiss to her neck, his teeth nipping at bare skin. 

_“JJ!”_ Kiara moaned, her back arching involuntarily, and JJ smirked at the strained tone of her voice. He wasn’t good at a lot of things, but this, _this_ he knew how to do. He wasn’t going to lie and say it wasn’t an ego boost to have her spread out beneath him, to know he could make Kiara Carrera unravel with just his tongue and teeth. 

And that’s exactly what he planned to do.

He started slow, letting the tension build, pressing kisses to her neck, her shoulder, the place behind her ear. Kiara was trying to seem unaffected, but then more groans and whimpers escaped her, her back arching beneath his hands.

She said his name again, heated desire lacing every syllable, and JJ hummed against her skin, ignored the harsh tug of her fingers in his hair. He knew exactly what she wanted, but he was going to take his damn time, whether she wanted him to or not. 

But then Kiara reached down and grabbed the edge of her coverup, pulling it over her head, and every thought went right out of JJ’s head at the sight of her. The black bikini she was wearing was barely more than two scraps of clothing, giving him a full view of her toned muscles and curves. 

Kiara must have noticed the lust-filled, dumbstruck expression on his face, because she smirked and said, “Like what you see?”

The noise JJ made was more animal than human, a growl escaping his throat as he crawled forward and braced himself over her.

“Not as much as you’re going to enjoy this,” he whispered into her ear, pressing the ghost of a kiss to her skin before pulling back, grinning at the tremor that coursed through her, how her eyes fluttered close.

JJ’s shirt followed hers, Kiara’s hands pulling it from his chest and throwing it onto the floor. Her hands ran over his back, nails digging into his skin, pulling him on top of her. JJ followed, let Kiara guide his mouth to her throat, left kiss after kiss on her skin, sucking and biting until her neck was covered in marks. 

It’s faster after that, more heated, both of their patience’s running thin now that they were skin to skin. 

Kiara’s lips still tasted like rum, her perfume giving off subtle notes of honeysuckle and jasmine, and her skin was far too warm, like sunlight made solid. He liked it more than she should, liked _her_ more than he should. 

She laughed as he struggled to unclasp her bikini top, and as she reached back to unhook it, JJ resisted the urge to tell her it was one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard. 

The thought was gone as soon as it came, vanishing as Kiara hooked her fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his swimming shorts.

“Off,” she demanded, sounding almost like a petulant child who was being denied their favorite toy. “Condom. Now.”

The commanding tone she used was hot as hell, and when JJ looked at the blatant, molten lust in her eyes and knew the same expression was on his own face, he snapped. 

He leaned down, fused his lips to hers, and her hands were suddenly everywhere: her fingers returning to his hair as she groaned into his mouth and clawed at his back with her nails. She flipped them over, and then JJ’s back was against the mattress and he was looking up at Kiara, who smirked at him as she rolled her hips.

He groaned, his head hitting the mattress, and Kiara fucking _giggled_ , like it was a joke. Oh, god, she was going to kill him. 

“You’re playing dirty,” he hissed through gritted teeth, fighting to regain control of himself, which was kind of impossible when she kept moving against him like that. 

“That’s the game,” she said, eyes heavy with lust as she lowered her lips to his chest, leaving a line of kisses from his neck to his hips. She seemed determined to match him hickey for hickey, and JJ certainly didn’t mind the idea of that. “But I have a feeling you can play ever dirtier.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he crooned, rubbing circles above her hipbones with his thumbs, smirking when she had to bite her lip to hold back a groan. “You have no idea.”

While she was distracted, he made his move, flipping her onto her back, pinning her to the bed. He kissed her shoulder, her lips, each one almost chaste compared to the heat from moments before. If she wanted dirty, he’d give her dirty. 

He started going lower, his fingers tugging on the edge her bikini bottoms, but no further than that. 

Kiara growled his name, tried to remove her bottoms herself, but JJ wrapped hand in her hair, tugging her neck back so that he could nip at her jawline. He carried on to her shoulder, making sure every touch he gave her was light, the kind of thing that would make her want more. 

But then she reached over and palmed him through his shorts, and JJ froze, groaning as she grinned and said, “Change your mind, now, babe?”

“Fine,” he hissed, scrambling for a condom in the nightstand. “You win. Happy?”

“I thought this was a mutually beneficial exchange,” Kiara said, and JJ kind of hated that she was using words like _beneficial_ right now, so he decided to do something about it. He wanted her exhausted by the end of this, he decided, drained and high on pleasure. “I mean I could just go finish in the bathroom, if you want—”

She stopped talking when JJ moved her bottoms to the side and pushed one finger into her, then two, his rings gleaming in the sunlight pouring in through the windows.

“ _JJ_ ,” she said again, but the annoyance had disappeared from her voice, which was now close to begging. “Fuck, JJ, I—“

“I know, babe,” he said, smirking at her, tearing the condom from its package with his spare hand, his fingers still working on her, making sure she was ready for him. He paused, waiting, almost wanting to ask if she was sure again just to piss her off, but Kiara bucked her hips against his and then he decided foreplay was overrated.

Her bikini bottoms vanished, Kiara wrapped her legs around his waist, and JJ couldn’t separate her heartbeat from his own. He’d never felt more in sync with someone, and he forced himself to move past that, to not focus on what it might mean. 

“Fuck, JJ,” Kiara moaned, her hands gripping his hair like her life depended on it. “Give me more.”

“Ask nicely, Princess,” he murmured into her ear, gasping when she clenched around him, any further taunts disappearing right out of his head. “Can you say please?”

“ _Please_.”

Her _please_ was what did it. God, she was going to be the death of him. 

JJ’s head fell onto her shoulder as he murmured words into her skin, unable to say much besides _Kiara_ and _babe_ and _keep going, I got you._ He adjusted the angle of her hips with a hand, smirking to himself when her moans increased in volume. 

She started sucking at the pulse point on his neck, nipping and biting until the marks on his skin mirrored the ones on her own. He likes this— likes that she takes what she wants, doesn’t wait for him to touch her.

JJ started to move faster, Kiara matching him thrust for thrust. It felt like he was hyper-aware of every touch, his skin tingling and warm with pleasure. His heart was pounding in his ears, and he mumbled into her hair. 

They came together— grappling for any piece of bare skin, her nails raking over his shoulders, her name on his lips. She buried her face in his neck as she cried out, and JJ’s breath hitched, a sound that was a combination of a moan and a whimper escaping him.

His forehead dropped to hers after he finished, his arms shaking with the effort of keeping himself braced above her. Kiara’s fingers were still wound in the hair at the base of his neck, and she pulled him down against her shoulder, still gasping for air.

“Fucking hell, Carrera,” he murmured against her skin, a dazed grin on his face. “That was—“

“I know,” she said, voice hoarse from screaming, and JJ felt a sense of pride at the sound. 

“Is this what they teach you in Hollywood, because I swear to God—“

She slapped his shoulder to shut him up, but she was smiling when JJ reluctantly rolled off of her, pressing a last kiss to her shoulder as he did. 

Kiara smirked, grabbed his discarded shirt off of the floor and tugged it over her head as she went to the bathroom. She returned a few minutes later, threw herself onto the bed beside him, her curls sprawled over the sheets. 

JJ had never been the person who cuddled after sex, in fact it was rare he even spent the night, so he didn’t know why he had the sudden urge to touch her.

He followed it anyway, tugging her into his side, burying his face in her shoulder. He could feel Kiara’s eyes on him, and for a moment he thought she would push him away, but she just sighed and let him wind his fingers into her hair, wrap their legs together. 

It felt like it meant something, but JJ’s exhaustion finally caught up with him, and he was asleep before he could think about it.

••• 

When Kiara woke up, light was flooding through the windows, the clock on the bedside table read 10 A.M., and JJ’s arm was around her waist.

She couldn’t keep the smile off of her face as she opened her eyes and felt his body still pressed against hers, his fingers in her hair. He was snoring softly, his breath hot against her shoulder, and she turned her head slowly, not wanting to wake him. 

His blonde curls were tousled from her running her fingers through it, his lips noticeably swollen, and Kiara blushed when she saw the hickeys covering his neck and chest. She’d done that— been unable to keep her mouth to herself, felt some primal need to mark him as hers.

Just like that, all of the memories from the night before came flooding back— JJ’s hands all over her, his lips working the skin at her neck, how perfectly they’d fit together, how _right_ he’d felt. 

She’d slept with people before, of course, but... _god_ , JJ was good. It was like he’d known exactly how to move to get her going, the exact place to put his hands to make her moan, and his mouth... God, she was in deep shit. 

Because last night had been great, _better_ than great, and Kiara didn’t known if she wanted this to end here.

She didn’t want to let JJ go, didn’t want to step out of his arms and return to reality, and that’s when Kiara realized that she was in trouble.

**Kiara Carrera spotted riding a motorcycle with new mystery beau. Get all the pics here!**


	2. i’ll see the veins of my city like they do in space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, do we have a deal then?” He asks her, holding out a hand for Kiara to shake.
> 
> She considers JJ, with his wind-swept blonde curls and loose black t-shirt, the blue eyes that were definitely still sparkling despite her starting to sober up, the lips that were far too kissable for her liking.
> 
> And then, Kiara shook his hand, his calluses brushing against her smooth skin. “I guess we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to thank everyone for all of the support and love you showed the first chapter of this fic! sorry it took me a little bit to post this chapter, i’m gonna and try and update at least once a week from now on. hope you enjoy xx

**Kiara Carrera spotted for the first time since her emotional breakup with Rafe Cameron. Is the star finally ready to move on? And if so, with who?**

“So, let me get this straight. Kiara Carrera took you to lunch, and then you flew with her on a private jet to Mexico, where you _slept together_.”

JJ sighed, put down the stack of plates he’d been carrying, and turned to face John B with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. 

“Yes, we slept together, okay? You wanna say that a little louder? I think there’s a table in the back corner that didn’t quite hear you.”

Ever since he’d walked into their apartment on Saturday and told John B what had happened between him and Kiara, his friend hadn’t stopped talking about it. And after two days of sly comments and John B staring at him like he was living with a stranger, JJ was starting to get sick of it.

And yes, if the roles were reversed, and John B had slept with a hot, famous actress JJ had been teasing him about just two days prior, he would milk it for all it was worth. But that wasn’t the point.

“So, how was it?” John B asked, that shit-eating grin of his making an appearance, because they’d had this discussion before, and JJ had made it very clear he wasn’t sharing any details. 

“I told you, that’s private,” he snapped, hoping that his cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt. He’d stalked Kiara’s Instagram the day he’d gotten back, locked himself in the bathroom so that John B couldn’t look over his shoulder and tease him for it. She’d posted a picture of the sunrise out the airplane window. If you squinted, you could see JJ’s jacket draped over the arm of a seat. 

“So, good, then?” John B said, smirking at him. “Had to be. She’s hot, and you’re well... you.”

The truth was that it _had_ been good. _Better_ than good, actually, the best sex he’d ever had. And JJ hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. 

It was kind of impossible, when the evidence was still all over his body. The scratches and indents on his shoulders where Kiara had dug her nails into his skin, the marks that covered his neck and chest from her lips and tongue and teeth.

Neither of them had wanted to get out of bed that morning, resulting in another lazy round beneath the sheets before the driver arrived to take them to the airport. JJ knew they both understood it meant returning to reality, the world where Kiara was a famous actress with a net worth of four million and he was working three minimum wage jobs just to make rent. They wouldn’t work, _couldn’t_ work, and thinking anything else was just JJ kidding himself.

Besides, it wasn’t like Kiara would even want to be in a relationship with him. Why would she? JJ figured he wasn’t the first person she’d hooked up with, for all he knew she did the same thing every weekend. Picked up some random guy at an audition, bought him lunch and took him on a ride in her private jet, hooked up with him and then never talked to him again. So, they’d had some good sex. So what?

And even if she did want something more... JJ didn’t _do_ relationships. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to fall in love with someone eventually (to be honest he didn’t know _what_ he wanted), but he’d just never seen the appeal. 

So, he told himself that it was just easier this way. 

It was easier to ignore the urge to pick up his phone and call her, to use the number Kiara had added to his contacts before dropping JJ off at his apartment. Easier to tell himself that he didn’t care if he never saw her again, if Kiara had already forgotten him.

In fact, he decided, it was easier to pretend that the whole thing had never happened.

Because emotions made everything messy, and JJ’s life was complicated and hard enough as is. He didn’t need anything making it worse. 

**Kiara Carrera returns from a weekend getaway to Mexico. The real question though: was her trip for business, or pleasure?**

“I swear to God, Sarah, if you say _I told you so,_ I’m kicking you out right now.”

Kiara and Sarah were in her kitchen, talking over smoothie bowls from Nekter, and Kiara had just told her what had happened between her and JJ. Needless to say, Sarah was pleased.

Now, she was smirking at Kiara over a spoonful of blueberries. “I’m not saying anything,” she said, not even trying to keep the smug expression off of her face. “I just think that it’s funny how some hot, blonde surfer boy was the thing that finally got you out of your slump.”

“I was not in a—”

“Yes, you were,” Sarah insisted, giving Kiara a hard look. “Don’t even argue, Kie. You’ve barely left this apartment for the past three months. And hey, there’s no shame in the one-night-stand route. That’s how most people get over a breakup, you know?”

“It wasn’t about Rafe,” Kiara snapped, and Sarah raised her hands in surrender even as Kiara instantly regretted her harsh tone. She didn’t know why, but the idea of Sarah assuming her having sex with JJ was just an attempt to get over Rafe rubbed her the wrong way. “It was... it just wasn’t, okay? And I’m not talking about it anymore, so don’t ask.”

“Fine,” Sarah said, still smirking at her, like she knew some secret that Kiara didn’t. “But I was totally right about the hookup outfit.”

Kiara had to resist the urge to throw her spoon at Sarah’s head. 

“Oh, ‘cmon Kie,” Sarah whined as Kiara went to rinse her bowl in the sink. She was still laughing under her breath, and Kiara decided she needed to get some new friends. “I need _details_ , you’ve literally given me nothing. I take it the sex was good?”

Kiara was glad that her back was turned to Sarah, because that meant she couldn’t see her face, or how red her cheeks had gotten. The sex had been far better than just _good_ , not that Sarah needed to know that. She was nosy enough as is. 

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” she said, raising her chin defiantly and hoping Sarah couldn’t tell how flustered she was. “But, yes, it was... good. He was— it was nice, that’s all.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you are _so_ smitten,” Sarah squealed, and Kiara turned around to glare at her. “No no, it’s adorable. I need to see this boy— ‘cmon, hand it over.”

Kiara sighed, handed over her phone reluctantly, trying to appear uninterested when Sarah located JJ’s account on Instagram in that quick, creepy way she always did. 

She scrolled through his photos, making occasional hums of appreciation, and Kiara eventually decided acting like she didn’t care was overrated, leaning over Sarah’s shoulder to see.

JJ had a little over a thousand followers, and his profile was a picture likely taken after a long day of surfing and getting struck by waves. His hair was plastered to his head, a huge grin on his face, the shark tooth necklace Kiara vaguely remembered tugging on while his lips were at her throat brazenly visible against bare skin. Somehow, he looked ridiculously attractive without even trying. Go figure. 

The theme of his posts seemed to follow a similar pattern: shirtless selfies on the beach with wet hair and tan skin, photos of the sunset or the ocean, videos of him surfing, a few that involved girls and alcohol. There was a boy with brown curls and a warm smile in most of them, an arm around JJ’s shoulders, and Kiara saw Sarah hover over the tagged account before she snatched the phone from her grip.

“Okay, that’s enough,” she said, holding the phone out of Sarah’s reach, ignoring her protests. “This is getting creepy. You’re such a stalker.”

“Fine,” Sarah groaned, crossing her arms and looking adorably grumpy. “I approve, by the way. Very cute. Very fuckable. Totally your type. When are you seeing him again?”

“Uh, never?”

_“What?”_

Kiara shrugged, confused as to why Sarah seemed so surprised. “I mean, it was just a one time thing. It’s not like we’re dating or anything.” 

“Oh, no, you’re seeing him again,” Sarah insisted, looking scandalized, as if Kiara had committed a capital offense. “He’s hot, and you obviously like him as more than a one-night-stand. So, what’s the plan? How are we doing this?”

“We’re not _doing_ anything,” Kiara told her, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. “We had sex, it was great, but I’m not gonna be that psycho who shows up after a first date and acts like they want to get married.”

“Not _married_ ,” Sarah sighed, rolling her eyes. “You should at least go on a second date with the guy before you propose.”

“I am not—”

“You so are—”

“He could have a girlfriend. Or be a serial killer. Or an ex-convict. The options are endless.”

“You won’t know if you don’t find out,” Sarah said in a sing-songy voice, waving her phone at Kiara. “Besides, you spent an entire day with the guy, right? Did he seem like a sociopath to you?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then it’s settled,” Sarah told her, slamming her hands on the table. “You’re so doing this.”

The truth was, Kiara wouldn’t mind seeing JJ again, even if it was just them talking. Because the sex part had been great, but she’d honestly enjoyed their conversation at Ensenada’s just as much. It was nice to be with someone who had treated her like a normal human being, instead of acting like she was better than them. 

“You said he was good at the audition, right?” Sarah asked, interrupting Kiara’s train of thought. She nodded, unsure where her friend was going with this. “Like good-good? Or you wanted to fuck him good?”

“Good-good,” Kiara answered, hating how warm her cheeks suddenly felt. Sarah didn’t notice, focused on typing something on her phone. Rude. She could at least pay attention to Kiara if she was going to grill her. “Like _really_ good, best I saw. He definitely deserves the role. The studio probably won’t pick him, though, especially if my mother has anything to say about it—”

“Unless I texted my father and told him to cast your cute surfer boy as the costar in your new movie.”

Kiara’s mind went blank. 

“You didn’t.”

“Oh, I so did.”

Sarah held up her phone as proof, showing off the text she’d sent her father, the immediate reply saying he would look into it. As always, anything for the Princess.

“Sarah!” Kiara screeched, throwing her hands into the air and slapping her friend on the shoulder. “You can’t just _do that_!”

“Why not?” Sarah asked, looking genuinely confused. This was normal for her, Kiara knew, changing the course of someone’s life with a few taps and a text. She’d accepted it until now, but this was taking it a step too far. “You said he was the best, right?”

“Well, yes, but that’s not the point—”

“Then I don’t see the problem,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “JJ gets a role that will skyrocket him to instant stardom, you get a costar you can actually stand, and you two get to spend the entire three month shoot fucking each other’s brains out. As far as I’m concerned, everyone wins. I’m selfless. This was a selfless act.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Kiara growled, her voice carefully controlled to prevent herself from screaming, even as the butterflies started fluttering in her chest. “I’m actually going to murder you. Get ready to say your last words, Sarah Cameron.“

Sarah just grinned at her, raised her eyebrows in a suggestive manner. “No, you’ll be thanking me when you’re screwing him in your trailer between scenes. I bet you a hundred bucks, right here right now.”

“It’s not happening.”

“Oh, it will.”

“He might not even get the part.”

Sarah smirked, and Kiara knew she’d lost, because they both knew Ward would do whatever his favorite daughter asked of him. 

“Call him,” Sarah told her, nodding at Kiara’s phone, still looking just as smug as when they’d started this conversation. “Or better yet, tell him the good news in person.”

**Who is Kiara Carrera riding around LA with? Click the link in our bio to see our top pics for the identity of the star’s motorcycle-mystery-boy.**

“Just fucking do it, you idiot.”

JJ glared at John B over his shoulder, who was standing at the counter with a bag of potato chips, watching JJ fail at drafting a text to Kiara and looking far too happy about it. 

It had been four days. That was a reasonable amount of time to text someone after a hookup, right? And it wasn’t like he was asking her to be his girlfriend, he just wanted...

Actually, JJ had no idea what he wanted. That was the problem.

But it turned out that pretending nothing had happened between him and Kiara was harder than he’d thought it would be. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, which was strange, because JJ wasn’t the kind of guy who got hung up on girls. And now that he’d experienced it, he didn’t like it one bit. 

He told himself that if he just saw her one more time, he could get her out of his system. And Kiara _had_ put her number in his phone, so it wasn’t a huge leap to think that she’d wanted to see him again.

“I’ll just be super causal,” he said, turning his back to the front of the cafe and leaning against the counter. The bell above the door jingled, but he ignored it. If his manager asked, JJ was taking his lunch break. “I’ll just ask her to go get coffee or something. Or is that lame? That’s lame, right?”

“Uh, JJ—”

“I’ll just ask her,” JJ told him, ignoring John B as he typed out the text and hit send before he could second guess himself. “She’s not going to say no, right? What do you think?”

Then he noticed John B’s wide-eyed expression, the finger he’d raised that was pointing over JJ’s shoulder. “JJ, behind you—“

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

JJ froze, because he knew that voice, but there was no way in hell that she was _here_. 

He turned around slowly, not quite believing his own eyes, but just as he’d thought, Kiara Carrera was standing behind him, and she’d definitely heard everything he was saying. 

JJ didn’t get embarrassed easily, but something about Kiara made all of his usual bravado go right out the window, so he was fairly sure he went bright red at the sight of her.

It didn’t help that she was unreasonably pretty, wearing a simple black dress and platform sneakers, her hair falling in loose curls over her shoulders, brown eyes sparkling as she watched JJ’s reaction with a smile on her lips.

“Are you just gonna stare, Maybank? Or are you going to say hello?”

JJ forced himself to get it together, slipping on his usual smirk. “You know, it’s rude to show up at someone’s work without asking. Maybe I’m busy.”

“Well, if that’s the case—”

She turned to leave, and JJ lasted about five seconds before he called her back, ignoring John B’s roar of laughter. Okay, fine, so Kiara could play. He clearly had to up his game. 

“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” He asked as she whirled back around, making sure that she was paying attention as he bit his lip and gave her a long once over. “I guess that’s just the Maybank charm.“

“Oh, please,” Kiara scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Get over yourself.” 

“You’re the one stalking me,” JJ reminded her with a shrug, hiding his grin when she blushed. “How’d you even find me?”

“None of your business.”

“You didn’t even last a week, Carrera—”

“Okay, okay, fine,” she relented, sounded slightly exasperated. “I might have snuck a peak at your resume to see where you worked. Happy?”

Oh, JJ, was thrilled, but he wasn’t about to let her know that.

“That’s a violation of privacy, you know?” He told her, eyebrows raised. “I could get you reported for that.”

Kiara just shook her head, though he could see the smirk tugging at the edges of her lips. “I thought you said something about coffee. Or was that an empty offer?”

“Not at all,” he said, gesturing for her to take a seat. “Your table, milady.”

He watched as Kiara sat at the counter and scanned their menu, flashing John B a wink that made him go scarlet. JJ took her order, sent his friend away to make Kiara‘a drink despite his protests, and then slid behind the counter to face her. 

“What _are_ you doing here?” He asked, because he was curious, and he was pretty sure she had better things to do than track down ex-hookups. “You know, besides stalking me.”

Kiara shrugged, crossing her arms. “I don’t know, I just... I wanted to see you. Is that so awful?”

She was starting to look genuinely embarrassed, so JJ brushed her off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about it, Carrera. I’m used to this.”

“Oh, really?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. “You lose your shit over texting all the girls you hook up with? Because when I came in—”

“Okay, enough,” JJ hissed, covering his face with a hand and wincing at Kiara’s short laugh. “I get it. You win, okay?”

“Wonderful,” she said, beaming at him. This close, he could smell her perfume, that intoxicating scent of something sweet and flowery. “I’m happy I can do something about that ego of yours, Maybank— seems a little inflated, if you ask me.”

“My ego’s just fine,” he told her with a grin, slipping a touch of arrogance into his voice. “Perfectly intact, thanks for the concern.”

“You know, some people consider over-confidence a character flaw.”

“Really? Because you seemed to think quite highly of me when my tongue—”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough!“

John B was standing behind them, Kiara’s latte in his hands, pointing a finger at JJ to shut him up. He didn’t mind— he’d gotten his point across well enough, judging by how red Kiara’s face had gotten. 

“Y’all are real cute and shit, but we have customers, so keep the flirting PG-13, okay?” He said, glaring at JJ and shooting a pointed look at the older couple sitting a few feet from the counter. 

“Fine, dad. This is John B,” JJ said when he saw Kiara studying him. “Roommate, coworker, pain in my ass. Take your pick. And I’m guessing _you_ know who this is.”

“He forgot best friend,” John B told her, offering a hand for Kiara to shake, looking slightly awed when she took it. “Sorry it’s just... I loved you in Starstruck, I couldn’t believe it when JJ told me that you two had, uh, you know—”

“Yeah, okay buddy,” JJ said, patting John B on the shoulder. “Tone down the fanboy, alright? She gets it.” 

But Kiara didn’t seem to mind, smiling at John B like he was an adorable puppy who’d just been overexcited to meet her. Girls looked at his friend like that a lot, but JJ was strangely bothered by it this time, more so than usual.

He was distracted by a commotion at the other end of the restaurant, someone holding up a phone and pointing it in Kiara’s direction.

“And that’s my cue,” she said, grabbing her purse and moving to leave, latte in hand. “It was nice meeting you, John B.”

JJ felt a rush of disappointment. His _see her one last time and get her out of his system theory_ wasn’t holding up so well, but he forced a smile onto his face as Kiara headed towards the door.

But then, she turned and said, “You wanna come?”

“Where are we going?” He asked, trying to be nonchalant, to ignore how his heart jumped in his chest. “Mexico, again?”

“Can’t tell you that,” she said, smiling at him. “It’s part of the whole _mysterious girl_ act. Mind if I steal your friend for the afternoon?”

She addressed the question to John B, who sighed once JJ shot him a quick, desperate look.

“Fine, I’ll cover your shift,” he said, sighing and shaking his head. “Just keep it in your pants, Maybank.“

“No promises,” JJ called over his shoulder as he followed Kiara out the door. 

_Just one afternoon,_ JJ told himself. _It couldn’t hurt, right?_

**Kiara Carrera spotted leaving a cafe in downtown LA with an unnamed waiter— could this be the star’s newest motorcyle-riding fling?**

Well, it wasn’t Mexico, but sitting in a spare makeup chair while a stylist did Kiara’s hair and someone offered him champagne was honestly even more foreign to JJ than an _actual_ foreign country.

Kiara had apologized in the car, a black SUV that looked like something the secret service would drive, telling him she had a photoshoot but that they could grab dinner after. She’d offered to drop him back home, but JJ had insisted it was fine, that he didn’t mind.

Still, this was all just a little... out of his element.

Kiara, for one, seemed perfectly comfortable. She’d hugged the stylist, complimented the highlights in her hair, and the two of them hadn’t stopped talking since she sat down.

She seemed amused by JJ’s reactions to everything, how he’d stared at the monitors and backdrops, almost dropped the glass of champagne someone offered him. He had to admit, the free alcohol was a perk. Kiara had declined, opting to drink from the water bottle she’d brought with her.

The shoot started off relatively well— Kiara was used to this, clearly, knew just how to angle her chin and smile at the camera, how to navigate the dozens of people that seemed to be talking to her at once. They were playing music over the speakers and she was dancing between shots, smirking whenever she saw that he was watching. JJ couldn’t really help it— he’d kind of noticed the other day, but Kiara definitely had moves. 

Mostly, though, he just tried to keep out of everyone’s way, scrolling through Instagram on his phone, ignoring the texts from John B that involved several winky faces and eggplant emojis. 

He saw Kiara checking her own phone out of the corner of his eye, frowning at something on the screen and biting her lip.

JJ didn’t think much of it, until the photographer asked her if she was ready to continue, and Kiara’s hands were shaking as she shoved her phone back into her purse.

She seemed tense after that, enough that JJ mouthed the words _you, okay?_ to her from across the room.

Kiara nodded, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she didn’t talk until they were back in the car.

“Fuck,” she sighed, leaning her head back against the seat with her eyes closed, running a hand over her face. 

“You good?” JJ asked, trying to appear uninterested, not wanting to push.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, shaking herself a little and running a hand through her hair. It was still in loose ringlets from the shoot, her eyelids painted a soft, shimmery orange, though she’d wiped off the bright red lipstick. “Sorry, just tired. Long day, you know.”

“If you don’t want to go to dinner, we don’t—”

“Oh, no, I want to go,” Kiara said, interrupting him, her smile more genuine this time. “Seriously. I’m craving sushi, that good with you?”

JJ nodded, and she leaned forward to give instructions to the driver. He didn’t think he would ever get used to that— having someone else to order around, instead of _being_ the one other people ordered around.

They left the man waiting on the curb, ducked into a dimly-lit restaurants with white tablecloths and a koi pond. It was fancier than most of the places JJ ate at, but he didn’t feel out of place in his jeans and black t-shirt.

Kiara flashes a warm smile at the waitress and they’re seated immediately. She orders dumplings and a plate of sushi chosen by the chef, while JJ opts for a simple California roll. The crab is never as fresh as the stuff back home, but JJ’s used to eating it fresh on the boat, not neatly chopped and stuffed into rolls.

Once the waitress leaves with their orders, Kiara turns to him, places her head in her hands. “Okay, I dragged you to that stupid photoshoot for over two hours, so let me have it. How bad was it? Have you lost all respect for me?”

JJ sighed, pretending to think. “Well, I was nervous when you started discussing shampoo brands, but then I saw your dance moves, and I just think they deserve an award, honestly Carrera, I mean—”

“Shut up,” Kiara muttered, even though he saw her bite her lip to hide her smile. He didn’t know why, but he was happy to see that she’d finally relaxed, the tension from earlier leaving her shoulders. “I have a feeling you can get down too, Maybank. Don’t try and deny it.”

“Hey, I got moves,” JJ shrugged, grinning at her and flexing his left bicep. Kiara threw her napkin at him, kicked him underneath the table when a waiter noticed and glared at them reproachfully. “Ah, feisty, Carrera. I like it.”

“I’m looking forward to knocking you down a peg, Maybank,” she said, smirking at him. “Don’t think I won’t do it.”

“Oh, yeah, very threatening, I’m _terrified_ ,” he fake-gasped, which earned him another kick to the shin. JJ winced, gripped the edge of the table and holding back a groan. Damn, she could kick. “Alright, cease-fire, I’m officially in pain. Hope you’re happy.”

Kiara hummed, but the waitress returned with their food before she got the chance to respond. The food was good, better than the store-bought sushi JJ was used to, but he was struggling with the chopsticks. Kiara kept laughing at him, but she decided to help him after JJ whined enough, using her hands to guide his fingers into the right position, demonstrated using her own. She was annoyingly good at it, and JJ didn’t talk to her for five minutes after she ate three pieces of sushi in a row without stopping. 

Kiara kept trying to get him to try the little red balls on top of her sushi, which she informed him was caviar, but JJ took one bite and cringed at the texture. She giggled at the disgusted expression on his face, plopped an entire piece of caviar-covered sushi in her mouth just to spite him.

He tries not to think about how domestic it felt, how _normal_. It was like they were in a relationship, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. 

“So, is this what a date with Kiara Carrera looks like?” JJ asks eventually, because even though he’s having fun, he needs to know what’s going on in Kiara’s head. Is this just another prelude to a hookup? Or something... more?

“If you want it to be,” she says with a shrug, glancing at him before returning her attention to her food.

“I’m just wondering,” he tells her, because JJ’s not as dumb as most people think he is, but he kind of needs things spelled out for him in this situation. “Honestly, I don’t really— I’m not looking—”

“Me neither,” Kiara says, interrupting him, her tone casual. She says it likes it’s easy, which throws him off just a little bit. Aren’t girls supposed to be high-strung about this sort of thing? Besides...

“But— I thought you, and Rafe...”

“We never dated, technically,” she admits, a ghost of that earlier tension reappearing. “He was just kind of... there, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” JJ says, deciding to steer the conversation away from that line of questioning, since it obviously made her uncomfortable. “So, is there someone else?”

He didn’t know why he wanted the answer to be _no_ so badly, why his heart jumped when she looked at him and asked, “Would you be mad if there was?”

“No,” he said, because he honestly wouldn’t be. He’d screwed multiple people at once before, there was no reason Kiara couldn’t do the same. “They’re obviously not as good as me with... _you know,_ or else I wouldn’t be here.”

JJ adds the last part on as an attempt at normalcy, because it’s what he would usually say.

“This isn’t a booty-call,” Kiara informs him, but her voice is light, and he can tell that she’s kind-of-maybe blushing. 

“You sure? Because it’s not too late to start. I’m quick, I swear.”

He means it, wouldn’t protest if she decided to screw him in the restaurant bathroom, but Kiara says, “Sorry, Maybank. But I think we should keep our distance.”

“Why?” He asks, his expression neutral, trying to seem unbothered by the declaration. “Scared you won’t be able to resist?”

“No,” Kiara laughs, shaking her head. “It’s just... it’s best to keep things professional, you know?” 

JJ nods, because that sounds reasonable, even though _professional_ seems like an odd word to use. But still... he feels like he has to say something, the thing that’s been on his mind all day. 

“You know I’m not anyone, right?” He says, because even though Kiara was the one who sought him out, he doesn’t understand why someone like her would want to spend time with someone like him. JJ was used to girls wanting to hookup, but genuinely wanting to spend time with him? That was all new. “Like literally no one. In case you were confused—”

“I know,” Kiara murmured, eyeing him from across the table, her gaze strangely soft. “That’s what I like about you.”

**The official TIFF schedule and list of featured films has been posted, headliners including as _Thinking Out Loud_ and _Ringless_. Get your tickets here!**

By the time they leave the restaurant, it’s safe to say that both Kiara and JJ are officially tipsy. 

They’d paid the check, but then she’d dragged him to the bar, ordered herself a Mojito and told JJ to get whatever he wanted and put it on her tab. She’d tried to pay for dinner, but he’d insisted on splitting the bill.

He’d ordered a rum and coke, and then they’d started talking, and before she knew it it was midnight and the bartender was politely kicking them out.

Kiara had sent her driver home hours ago, assured him that she would catch an Uber back to her apartment. So she clung to JJ’s arm as they stumbled out into the street and into the taxi the bartender had called, staying close to him under the guise of keeping her balance. Kiara wasn’t even that drunk, but the world was pleasantly blurred at the edges, and it’s enough for her to lean her head against JJ’s shoulder for the duration of the car ride.

Kiara whispers instructions to the driver, winks at JJ’s intrigued expression and collapses back against the seat. She should get home, has a meeting in the morning and a lunch date with Sarah, but she’s not quite ready for the night to be over, and she still hasn’t told JJ the news. She was waiting for Sarah to confirm it, not wanting to get his hopes up.

They eventually arrived at their destination— a hill that overlooked downtown LA, offering a full view of the glittering buildings and skyscrapers below, the Hollywood sign in the distance. It was one of Kiara’s favorite spots in the city. 

The driver seemed hesitant to leave them, but she left a generous tip to persuade him, took JJ’s hand and pulled him from the car. 

They collapsed onto the grass, an uncharacteristically girlish giggle escaping her. JJ smelled like rum and coffee beans, the latter likely from his shift at the cafe this morning. And yes, she had shamelessly snooped through his resume to find out where he worked.

It probably broke all kinds of privacy laws, at least that’s what her mother would say, but Kiara couldn’t really bring herself to care.

That was the problem. JJ made her not care, and if they were really going to work together, she needed to keep things professional. Something she was really, really failing at.

As if on cue, her phone chimed, and Sarah’s name appeared on the screen.

 **Sarah 😘💞:** _It’s official. My dad said JJ has the part if he wants it. You know what this means... 😏🍆💦_

Kiara decided to ignore the second part of Sarah’s text, and ban her from using the eggplant emoji ever again, but... shit, this was really happening. 

Which meant that she had to tell JJ, and that this, whatever it was, had to end before it had even really started. 

“I brought you up here for a reason, you know,” she said, turning towards him, telling herself his eyes were only sparkling because it was late and she was drunk. “This was the first place I came after I found out I got the leading role in Starstruck. I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into, but I _did_ know that my life was never going to be the same.”

“Is this when I finally get the sob story?” JJ asked, smirking at her. “What’s your problem, Kiara? Drugs? Paparazzi scandals? Lack of—”

“You got the part.”

A pause, and then... “What?”

“You got the part,” she repeated, smiling at the shocked expression on his face. “So, if you accept, in three months when we fly out to Hawaii to start shooting, you’d be coming with us. To play my boyfriend slash best friend, that is.”

JJ faltered, staring at her, and Kiara was pleasantly surprised to find that she’d rendered him temporarily speechless.

“Are you serious?” He asked after a long moment of silence, still staring at her like she’d told him he’d just won the lottery. “Like no jokes, Carrera, because that’s not cool.”

“Yep,” she said, nodding at him. “That is, if you want to—”

“Yes,” JJ said immediately, his voice firm. “Definitely yes, I don’t—”

He cut off, glancing at her with something like suspicion in his eyes. “This isn’t because of us, right? Whatever this is.”

“No,” she said immediately, which was technically a lie, but one JJ didn’t need to know. She had a pretty good read on him already, she thought, and Kiara didn’t think he would appreciate handouts. “I may have vouched for you, but other than that, this was all you, JJ. I promise.”

JJ ran his fingers through his hair, stared out at the city, face blank. Kiara knew that look, remembered how giddy and shocked she’d been when she’d gotten the call for her first headlining movie. It had felt like all of her dreams were coming true.

And because she kind of knows what JJ is getting himself into, she has to ask, ”Are you sure that you want to do this? I know it seems like a dream come true, but this whole movie star thing... it’s not everything that people think it is. You won’t be able to go back to normal, no matter what you do. Trust me.”

JJ pauses, glances at her once before looking away. “You know, my dad... he uh— he was never that supportive of me wanting to act, coming out here to LA. My whole family were fisherman, it just wasn’t an option. He made it clear that I wouldn’t be welcome back home if I left, but I did it anyway, so... I think I have to do this. Not just to prove him wrong, but because I need to prove it to myself that it wasn’t all for nothing, you know?”

Kiara nodded, biting her lip, grabbing JJ’s hand on instinct and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Her mother might get on her nerves sometimes, and it wasn’t like her dad had a particularly active role in her life since he lived on the other side of the country, but she knew she wouldn’t be where she was without her parents support. And even if they hadn’t liked the idea of her moving so far away, they’d made sure that she knew she always had a place to come home to.

Kiara opened her mouth to say something, _sorry_ maybe, even though she also didn’t think JJ was the kind of guy who wanted people to pity him, but then her phone chimed again, three times in a row, and she froze.

She’d never changed his ringtone, even after all these months. The sound automatically set her on edge.

Their fingers were still intertwined, and JJ must have noticed how still Kiara had gotten, because he was watching her as she unlocked her phone and read the new messages.

 **Rafe Cameron:** _You ignoring my texts now, Kiara? I’m hurt._

 **Rafe Cameron:** _Heard you’ll be @ TIFF. Can’t wait to see you again, I’m sure we’ll have some fun. Just like old times, right?_

 **Rafe Cameron:** _Save me a dance, sweetheart. See you soon xx_

Kiara couldn’t hide her shiver at the creepy tone of his texts, the goosebumps that crept up her spine at the thought of dancing with Rafe again. 

He’d texted her earlier, too, while they were at the photoshoot. She’d shoved her phone back in her purse immediately, tried to pretend that her hands weren’t shaking and that her heart hadn’t suddenly jumped to her throat. 

But JJ had noticed, and she could tell that he was curious, so she reluctantly held out the phone for him to see.

He frowned at the messages, looking thoroughly disgusted. “Your ex, right? Talk about creepy. Shit, was this what you were looking at earlier?”

Kiara nodded, staring out at the city, not wanting JJ to see how uncomfortable she was. Rafe was always a touchy subject, one she never discussed with anyone but Sarah. She wasn’t exactly sure why she’d felt the urge to tell JJ. Maybe it was because he was removed from the situation, because even though she loved Sarah to death, she felt bad dissing her brother in front of her. Not that Sarah didn’t call Rafe out on his shitty behavior, but still...

“He keeps texting me,” she blurted without thinking, wincing at how stupid that sounded. Why should she expect JJ to care about her boy problems? “And I want to block the number, I do, but stuff like that... it just pisses him off more, you know? And Rafe when he’s angry... it’s just not a good idea.”

“Is it true that you punched him in the face?” JJ inquires, his tone neutral, as if he was gauging how far he could go.

“Yep,” she confirms with a nod, getting a momentary flashback of that night, the cruel words Rafe had screamed at her before she’d slapped him across the face to shut him up. “After he told me I was a talentless slut who wouldn’t make it anywhere in life without him or his family.

“Fuck,” JJ muttered, staring at her, eyes wide. “Well, he obviously deserved it. And you’re a total badass for that, just so you know.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Kiara said in a falsely cheery voice. “Puncher of douchebag ex-boyfriends, just like the tabloids say.”

“Well, remind me to never break your heart, Carrera,” JJ says, and even though his tone is teasing, Kiara feels a shiver go up her spine at the thought. Fuck. If they were going to work together, she’d have to get that under control. 

“Oh, please. Like _you_ could break my heart.”

“Over-confidence is an unflattering character trait, Kiara.”

She hadn’t realized how close they were until that moment, when JJ turns to look at her and she smiles at him. He inches a little bit closer, until their noses are practically touching. Kiara thinks that he‘s about to kiss her, but then her nerves spike and she clears her throat, breaking the moment.

“So,” JJ says after a beat of silence, shifting slightly farther away from her. Kiara tells herself it’s normal to feel disappointed about that, because it‘s late and she’s drunk and it‘s kind of cold on the side of the hill. But it’s not because she wants him close, wants to feel his skin against hers. Definitely not. “This TIFF thing you’re going to, what is it?”

“Toronto Film Festival,” she explains, shivering in her thin dress, resisting the urge to tug JJ closer to her side. “It’s this event where they screen all of these films. I have a movie that’s premiering, and Rafe’s gonna be there too, with his... girl of the week, or whatever. Not that it will stop him from hitting on me whenever he gets the chance. But it is what it is, so—“

“I could go with you.”

Honestly, Kiara doesn’t think she’s heard him correctly. “What?”

“I could go with you,” JJ says, scratching the back of his head and not meeting her gaze, as if he was suddenly embarrassed. “To that film festival thing, you know, if you wanted me to.”

“Are you serious?” Kiara asks him, frowning at JJ. “You would do that?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, nodding his head but still not looking directly at her. “If you need a buffer between you and your douchebag ex-boyfriend, that is.”

Kiara realizes that he really means it as a serious offer, and she pauses. Because this seems like the kind of situation in a rom-com, one that either ends with both people catching feelings and being heartbroken or kissing in an airport terminal, and neither of those options sound very professional.

“Like, as my date?” She asks, just to confirm they’re both on the same page before she plunges off the deep end with this idea. “Like going to red carpets and dancing and shit?”

JJ’s cheeks are slightly flushed as he starts to say, “I mean, it’s a stupid idea, I don’t know why I even brought it up. Let’s just forget—“

“No, no, it’s not a stupid idea,” Kiara argues, interrupting JJ before he can revoke the offer. “It’s just... I was trying to keep things professional.”

That seems to end JJ’s embarrassment, and he smirks at her, raising his eyebrows. “But where’s the fun in that?”

They make eye contact, a flicker of heat entering JJ’s gaze, but Kiara shakes her head before he can move any closer. “No, okay, we’re not doing this.” 

JJ pouts, though he does keep his distance. “Wow, Carrera, I’m hurt.” 

“No, it’s just— it’s not you,” she reassures him, even though she knows JJ is joking. “But if we’re going to work together we can’t... do this.”

“Fine,” JJ sighs, falling back onto the grass and rolling his eyes. “But Rafe’s never going to believe that I’m your boyfriend if you won’t let me touch you.”

Okay, so he had a point there. “Yeah, okay, you’re right. We just need... rules.”

“Rules?” JJ asks, as if that was a foreign concept to him. She has a sense that in some regards, it probably was. 

“Yes, rules,” Kiara told him, nudging him in the shoulder with her hand. “Like no making out or sleeping in the same bed. And no sex.”

“Wow, way to take all the fun out of it.”

She hits him a little harder this time, crosses her arms and pretends to be pissed. “Never mind, then.”

“No, okay, fine,” JJ says, the words rushing past his lips, and she has to hide her grin at his immediate panic. “Rules. I can do rules.”

Kiara shoots him a skeptical look, but JJ meets her stare head on. “No, I’m serious. From now on, no romantic wooing on my part. We’ll just be... friends. Friends who pretend to date to get rid of creepy ex-boyfriends.”

“Oh, please,” Kiara scoffs, laughing at JJ’s claim. “Wooing? How exactly did you _woo_ me?”

“I don’t know, but it clearly worked, didn’t it?”

Kiara hums noncommittally under her breath, but JJ does have a fair point. They _had_ slept together, and if she wasn’t going to be working with him, this evening would have an entirely different ending.

“So, do we have a deal then?” He asks her, holding out a hand for Kiara to shake.

She considers JJ, with his wind-swept blonde curls and loose black t-shirt, the blue eyes that were definitely still sparkling despite her starting to sober up, the lips that were _far_ too kissable for her liking.

And then, Kiara shook his hand, his calluses brushing against her smooth skin. “I guess we do. It’s going to be a pleasure working with you, Maybank.”

JJ grins at her, squeezes her hand a little harder than necessary. “Likewise, Carrera.”

**Kiara Carrera and Rafe Cameron are both confirmed to be attending TIFF. Will the stars keep their tempers in check? Or will sparks fly— and not the good kind.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you liked this chapter, or have anything you want me to include in this fic, please leave a comment below!! also kudos are always appreciated :) thank you for reading!


	3. if all we got is tonight, let’s do this right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He turns to Kiara, searching for a joke to lighten the mood, but she honestly looks just as anxious as he feels. Her lip is trapped between her teeth and she’s clutching the seat so hard that her fingers are turning white, her breathing shaky. 
> 
> “You sure you want to do this?”
> 
> JJ glances at their joined hands, then at the scene behind the tinted windows, and braces himself. “No going back, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so much for all of the love on the first two chapters of this fic! i’m sorry it took so long for me update, i was struggling to get this chapter right and really busy with family stuff, but i hope y’all enjoy!
> 
> and yes, kiara has a pink drink because it’s madison’s favorite, okay? seriously though with this fic i can’t tell where jj and kiara end and maddie and rudy begin. it’s a healthy mix lol.

**The 44th annual Toronto Film Festival is set to take place this weekend. Click here for a full guest list, and to read about the most anticipated films!**

If John B could see JJ right now, he would lose his shit.

To be fair, if JJ had seen _himself_ two weeks ago, he would have lost his shit too.

After he’d offered to be Kiara’s date to her movie premiere, he’d been shoved headfirst into a strange world of unspoken rules and NDA’s and pretending like he belonged with people who were much richer and more important than him.

Like right now, as he was getting his suit for the red carpet tailored and trying to act like he understood the difference between a jacket and a blazer or what the hell hemming was. JJ hadn’t worn a suit in years, the last time probably being the moth-eaten one he’d worn to his high school prom, and he definitely hadn’t had it _hemmed_. 

At least the tailor, a short man with a thin mustache and a strong Italian accent, had caught on to the fact that JJ was utterly clueless, and had stopped asking for his opinion.

His phone buzzed in the pocket of his jeans, and JJ shot the man an apologetic look before leaning over to grab it, wincing when one of the pins pricked him in the leg. He couldn’t tell if the guy was doing it on purpose or not.

It was a text from Kiara, a response to the picture he’d sent her a few minutes ago of him surrounded by a few hundred silk suits and looking _very_ out of his element. 

**Kiara:** _Has Vincenzo poked you with a pin yet?_

 **JJ:** _It’s almost like you’re enjoying this. You totally threw me to the wolves, by the way._

 **Kiara:** _Oh, I am. And I did. Sorry not sorry, bud._

JJ fought to keep the grin off of his face as he typed back a response, because it had been a week since they’d started talking like this, and he should really be used to it by now.

He‘s not sure where the idea to go with her had come from, only that Kiara’s hands had been shaking and she seemed kind of anxious about the whole seeing her douchebag ex-boyfriend thing, and the words had just... slipped out. 

He’d also made the offer after Kiara had told him that he was going to be co-starring in a movie with her, so JJ’s brain had been a little frazzled, to say the least. And no, he still hadn’t wrapped his head around _that_ piece of news. 

The thing was, spending time with Kiara, talking to her like this, was so easy that sometimes JJ forgot that it was technically all just pretend.

Well, maybe not this— the casual banter, texting each other memes and goofy selfies when they were bored. That was normal, the kind of things friends did, but everything else...

JJ wasn’t an expert on fake relationships, but sometimes he wondered if they were supposed to feel this real. 

**Sources claim Kiara Carrera has a new boo— but is he legit? Or just a rebound from ex Rafe Cameron?**

He’s never been to a real airport before, so JJ doesn’t have anything to compare it to, but even he can tell that Kiara’s traveling experience is different from the average persons.

It’s still dark outside when the car arrives at JJ’s apartment and Kiara texts him that they’re there to pick him up. John B mumbles something between a _good luck_ and _shut the hell up_ as JJ stumbles through the apartment and accidentally turns the bathroom lights on while he’s brushing his teeth. 

Kiara’s more awake than anyone has the right to be at four in the morning, fresh-faced and wearing a black turtleneck, jeans, and a fluffy white jacket that makes her look kind of like a polar bear. She hasn’t even had coffee yet— apparently, she doesn’t believe in caffeine. 

JJ scoffs at that, claims it’s a form of blasphemy, rests his head against the seat and closes his eyes while Kiara lectures him on the negative impacts of coffee bean harvesting— namely deforestation and soil erosion.

_“Honestly, Carrera, who gives a fuck about soil erosion at four in the morning?”_

_“Climate change doesn’t comply with your sleep schedule, JJ.”_

They’re two hours early for their flight when they arrive at the airport, and JJ figures it’s because they have to get through security and shit, but they’re taken to a private room and screened there. It’s probably a good thing, because he has to take off all of his rings and remove the lighter from his pocket, and the TSA agent seems kind of hesitant to let him through, but he’s with Kiara, and that‘s enough to convince them that JJ’s not going to hijack the plane.

Thank god Kiara had told him to leave his pocketknife at home when he’d texted her about it.

 **Kiara:** _No, JJ, it doesn’t matter if it’s retractable. It’s still a no. Do I need to come over and inspect your carry-on myself?_

 **JJ:** _You can never be too prepared, Carrera. And wow, it’s almost like you don’t trust me._

There’s no private jet this time, but they’re directed to an airport lounge that’s almost empty to wait for the plane to board. Kiara settles in right away, locates an outlet and starts typing on her phone, seeming almost bored by their surroundings. 

JJ’s the opposite: he switches seats at least three times, makes himself a cup of coffee at the free drink station and mixes three different creamers together, waves the styrofoam cup at Kiara pointedly.

He ventures out to get snacks eventually, ignoring Kiara’s concerns that he’ll get lost, mostly because the silence and stuffiness of the lounge is starting to get to him. It’s all kind of overwhelming at first, but it turns out that he likes the busyness of the airport, the feeling that everyone has somewhere to be. 

Kiara texts him while he’s deciding between hot Cheetos and Combos, requesting he get her a drink from Starbucks. He reads off the order to the guy at the cash register, responds to John B’s slightly more coherent goodbye texts while he waits. 

Then they call his name, and JJ knows exactly what Kiara is up to.

She’s smiling when he returns holding one very large, very _pink_ drink, ignores JJ’s hard stare as he hands it to her and she takes a long sip. “Mmm, delicious. Thanks.”

“I had to carry that through three terminals, you know,” he tells her, collapsing into the seat across from Kiara and downing the dregs of his own coffee, his second-one for the day. “Hope you’re happy; it was humiliating.”

“Why?” Kiara asks, scoffing and shaking her head. “Because it’s pink? Colors have no gender, JJ, there’s no reason to be embarrassed.”

“No, because it’s a twenty ounce de-caffeinated monstrosity.”

Kiara gasps, clutches her drink to her chest. “I’m just going to pretend I didn’t hear that. At least I’m saving the trees.”

JJ opens his mouth to respond, but then someone arrives to tell them that they’re boarding, and he grabs his coffee and his carry-on, waits while Kiara shoulders her bag and takes an extra long, obnoxious sip of her drink. 

The boarding process is streamlined too, partly because they both only brought carry-on’s and partly because the flight attendant addresses Kiara as _Ms. Carrera_ and asks if she can autograph something for her daughter. Kiara agrees easily, and the woman beams, her smile not even faltering when JJ drops his passport and has just about the most awkward interaction ever. They had rush-ordered it just for this trip— Kiara was amazed that he didn’t have one, had sobered up when JJ reminded her that he’d never had enough money in his bank account to even fly within the US.

She thanks the woman at the gate with a smile, tugs JJ forward and into a metal tunnel that looks like something from E.T., but when he tells Kiara this she just looks confused.

“Please tell me you’ve seen E.T.”

“Is that the one with the cute little robot?”

JJ honestly doesn’t know where to begin with how wrong that response is, so he opts for telling her that they’re watching it at some point, because he can’t associate with someone who hasn’t seen one of the greatest films of all time.

He starts quizzing her after that, relieved to learn that she’s seen the Breakfast Club and Pulp Fiction, adds Jaws, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Blade Runner to the mental list in his head. 

They’re sitting in first class, of course, which Kiara explains is the only way her mother would let her fly commercial. JJ’s never met Kiara’s mother, only caught glimpses of her through doorways or heard her screaming in the background on a phone call, but he has the sense that she can rival her daughter when it comes to her stubbornness.

There’s a flight attendant who greets them at the door and takes them to their seats. Kiara mentions that it’s JJ’s first time flying a little too loudly and the woman beams, comes back a few moments later with a set of little metal wings and pins them to his chest. Kiara laughs behind the woman’s back and snaps a picture of JJ looking grumpy, posts it on her private story.

Their seats are next to each other, with plenty of leg room and a lot of buttons JJ is tempted to touch. He plays around with them while they wait for the rest of the passengers to board, moves his seat back and forth and turns on the overhead lights until Kiara covers her eyes and snaps at him to _cut that shit out._ He tells her she would be in a much better mood if she just had a cup of coffee like a normal person, which results in her putting in her Airpods and not talking to him until the cabin door closes. 

The flight attendant who gave JJ his pin gives a whole spiel about emergency exits and what to do in case of a crash. He tunes out about halfway through, partially because his attention is hard to keep hold of but also because he’s suddenly thinking about how they’re trapped in a metal tube that could potentially crash and kill them all. 

He starts bouncing his leg, loosens and retightens his seatbelt a few times, plays with the frayed edges of his t-shirt instead of taking his lighter out of his bag like he would normally. The flight attendant specifically said no smoking, but JJ thinks to himself that he would kill for a blunt right about now. 

Kiara notices, nudges his foot with hers and asks, “You good?”

JJ nods, but he doesn’t stop bouncing his leg, and the woman sitting across the aisle from them gives him an annoyed look. He stops, turns back towards Kiara and stares out the window over her shoulder.

The captain’s voice crackles over the speakers as they start to move down the runway, telling them to prepare for takeoff. JJ tenses when the plane’s wheels lift off the ground, and Kiara grabs his hand without him having to ask, gives it a firm squeeze.

The plane jerks a few times as they rise into the air, and JJ winces when his ears pop, takes the sugar-free gum Kiara offers him gratefully. The view of LA is actually kind of sick though once they’re off the runway, and any anxiety he felt during the takeoff starts to fade. 

JJ asks Kiara how long the flight is, groans when she informs him that it’s five hours. He tries to steal one of her Airpods, but she swats his hand away, gestures to the mini TV screen in front of his seat and suggests that he watch a movie.

He flicks back and forth between the featured films at least three times, finally settles on an Adam Sandler comedy he remembers John B and him watching while high one time. It’s less funny without the weed in his system, and he gets bored halfway through, turns to bother Kiara again as a form of entertainment only to find that she’s fallen asleep, her head leaning against the side of her seat in a position that can _not_ be comfortable.

The sun had risen over the clouds, and JJ shuts the window after Kiara stirs and throws an arm over her face, searches through her bag and groans when she realizes that she’d forgotten her eye mask. 

She closes her eyes for a few more minutes anyway, kicks JJ in the shin when he takes her phone and starts shuffling through the music on her playlist. 

The arrival of a flight attendant with a cart of drinks and food saves him from Kiara’s wrath. JJ’s not used to this, tells her he’s fine with the chips in his bag, but she insists that he have something more substantial to eat.

He ends up ordering a chicken sandwich and a rum and coke, pretends not to see Kiara’s disapproving glare. She gets a salad with a side of hummus and vegetables, which JJ calls bunny food. 

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know?”

“I did warn you.”

But Kiara can’t be that annoyed, because she lets JJ share one of her Airpods while she’s watching Parks and Rec on her phone, steals a few of his Cheetos when he opens the bag. 

The plane shakes and shudders a bit at one point, the little seatbelt sign flicking back on, and JJ shoots Kiara a few tense looks, but she assures him that it’s normal.   
  
The rest of the flight passes without incident, and then the lights turn on and they’re the first ones off the plane. JJ wheels both of their carry-ons, Kiara’s fluffy white jacket draped over his arm while she calls her mom to tell her that they made it.

They have to go through customs, a process that makes JJ unreasonably nervous, especially when a guy who looks like he’s never smiled a day in his life asks if they have any illegal substances with them and he thinks about the weed he’d stuffed into his socks. But Kiara answers all of the questions with ease, nudges JJ when it’s his turn, and they make it past the checkpoint without any problems.

But apparently JJ spoke too soon, because the moment they exit the airport there’s a swarm of paparazzi waiting for them, cameras furiously clicking.

Kiara already has her sunglasses on, likely for this exact reason, but JJ raises an arm to block the bright flashes, shifting closer and putting a hand on her back on instinct. 

Because he’s seen those crazy paparazzi videos on Instagram before, and this isn’t even that bad, but it’s all a little overwhelming and he’s not even the one they’re shouting at.

“Kiara, are you nervous about seeing Rafe at TIFF?” 

“Have you two spoken since the breakup?”

“Who’s your blonde friend? Can I get a name?”

JJ’s head jerks up at that, and Kiara must sense that the question has rubbed him the wrong way, because she takes the hand that’s on her back and winds their fingers together. He tries not to think about the implication of that, but its enough of a distraction that he keeps his mouth shut until they’ve shoved through the crowd and are inside the car. 

“Is that normal for you?” He asks Kiara as they pull away from the curb, the cameras still flashing through the tinted windows. “Getting mobbed by assholes with cameras?”

“Yep,” she says, shaking herself a little and untangling their fingers. JJ had forgotten they were holding hands. “You’ll have to get used to it, you know.”

JJ has a hard time believing anyone would care about getting a picture of him that much, so he shakes his head and says, “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” Kiara tells him, followed by a pointed look. “You sure you still want to do this?”

“Kind of late to back out now, don’t you think?”

He gestures towards their hands, which are still lying inches apart on the leather seat, and he thinks Kiara might be blushing, but she turns to look out the window before he can be sure. 

It’s not even noon in Toronto, but by the time they get to the hotel, JJ honestly just wants to take a nap. He barely glances at the view of the city from his hotel room, which is certainly the nicest place he’s ever stayed, and then collapses onto the bed without bothering to change out of his clothes.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up five hours later, drags himself out of bed and into the shower, slips into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt while he orders room service. 

Kiara appears in the doorway after his food comes, still in her clothes from earlier. She looks tired, which JJ knows is never something girls want to hear, but it doesn’t make her look bad just... a little more human. 

She asks if she can join him, eyeing the fries he’d ordered, and JJ gestures towards the bed and says, “Don’t be shy, Carrera.”

Kiara lies on the edge, pulls the fries towards herself and pops some into her mouth, groans in satisfaction and licks the grease from her fingers. JJ tries not to stare, but it’s kind of impossible, so he just hopes that she doesn’t notice. 

“God, I love carbs,” she sighs, taking another handful. “You should see what my mother ordered for dinner— she took the toppings off her salad. It was basically just lettuce.”

“I told you, bunny food,” JJ says, throwing a fry at her forehead.

Kiara shakes her head and bats the fry away, but she’s smiling, and he takes that as a win.

They talk for a few more minutes as they finish off the fries, and then Kiara goes quiet, staring at the napkin in her hands. “So, I know I already asked you this but... are you sure you want to do this? The whole fake-boyfriend thing?” 

“I was the one who suggested it, remember?” JJ reminds her, but then he starts to wonder if the reason Kiara keeps giving him an opportunity to back out is because she _wants_ him to. “Unless... are you having second thoughts? Because if you’re uncomfortable, then—”

“No, no that’s not it,” Kiara says quickly, shaking her head. “I just don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into. And we still have to work together after this, so I don’t want it to go bad and have you like... hate me or whatever.”

“Is this your way of telling me that you’re a shitty girlfriend?”

“I’m being serious, asshole,” she snaps, hitting him on the shoulder. “You saw what happened today at the airport— the tabloids don’t play around, and once they figure out that we’re together, they’ll go ape-shit. Trust me.”

“I got the whole consent talk back in middle school, you know?” He says, but Kiara doesn’t look very amused. “Seriously, Carrera, how many times do I have to say I’m cool with this for you to believe me?”

“Fine,” Kiara sighs, though she still doesn’t seem entirely convinced. “But we should discuss our plan for tomorrow.”

“What plan?” JJ asks, throwing the last of the fries into his mouth. “I thought I just had to keep my mouth shut and look cute.”

“Should be a challenge.”

JJ jerks his head up, pouts at Kiara, but she just smirks and tilts her chin to the side. “Do you ever take anything seriously?”

“Have you met me?” JJ chuckles, but Kiara’s glaring at him, and he realizes that she’s actually worried about tomorrow. “No, for real though, I’ll be cool I promise. I’ll just stand next to you the entire time, right? And act all territorial if Rafe tries any shit.”

Kiara rolls her eyes, but the edges of her mouth are turned upward, and she doesn’t seem anymore pissed at him than usual. 

“This is probably a bad idea, right?” She asks a few minutes later as she turns to leave, glancing at him over her shoulder. 

“It usually is, where I’m concerned,” JJ admits, falling back against the pillows and smirking at her. “But that’s what makes it interesting.”

**Kiara Carrera and rumored boyfriend JJ Maybank were photographed by paparazzi while arriving at Toronto International Airport this afternoon. Will the couple make their debut at TIFF?**

JJ doesn’t get out of bed until eleven the following morning, hits snooze on his alarm when it goes off at eight. Toronto is three hours ahead of LA, which isn’t that big of a time difference, but it still takes two cups of coffee until he starts to feel awake.

There’s a text from Kiara informing him she has press all morning, so JJ is left to entertain himself. He hangs out in the room till noon, grabs lunch at a cafe around the street, and when he returns to the hotel his suit is hanging on the door and Kiara’s texted him to come to her room when he’s done getting ready.

JJ doesn’t know what the protocol is for a red carpet, so he showers and brushes his hair, even sprays himself with some of the fancy hotel cologne. The suit fits perfectly— not that he’s surprised. 

Music is blaring from behind Kiara’s door when he arrives at her hotel room and knocks. “You decent, Carrera?”

He can practically feel her rolling her eyes through the door. “ _Yes_ , JJ. Come in.”

The door to her room swings open, and JJ’s jaw might have dropped at the sight of Kiara in a floor-length red velvet dress with a slit running up the side, her hair flowing down her back in soft curls and eyelids painted gold. 

And sure, Kiara always looks good but he’s never seen her like this before, and it’s honestly a little intimidating, like a physical reminder of how far out of his league she is.

“That bad, huh?” She asks, smirking at him, and JJ forces his mouth to close. 

“You’ve looked worse.”

Kiara rolls her eyes, stands aside to let him in. Her room looks like someone ransacked it— there’s makeup and hair products on every surface, at least four pairs of shoes on the ground.

“I’m almost ready,” she tells him, studying her reflection in the mirror as she applies a layer of red lipstick. “My mother wouldn’t stop giving the stylist tips— honestly, you’d think she was the one getting photographed.”

“She certainly likes to be involved doesn’t she?” JJ notes, keeping his voice light just in case Kiara’s the kind of person who gets offended when people criticize her parents.

But she just laughs, glances at JJ’s reflection in the mirror. “You don’t know the half of it. Your tie is crooked, by the way.”

JJ looks down, but Kiara is already standing and pulling him closer, her hands working his tie into submission, which is the same color as her dress. She’s surprisingly good at it, and he raises his eyebrows at her.

Kiara just bites her lip, looking slightly flustered with her hands still on his chest, and that’s when JJ realizes that the last time they’d been this close, she’d kissed him. He fought the urge to move closer, even though he knew it was a bad idea. 

Before he can do it, there’s the sound of a camera clicking and they both flinch, jerking away from each other. 

“Sorry,” says the woman standing in the doorway, phone in hand. “I just had to take a picture— you two are _adorable_.” 

Kiara is _definitely_ blushing now as she shoots JJ an apologetic look and explains that the woman, who has skin slightly darker than hers and long, black hair set in intricate braids, is her stylist who she _might_ have told a bit about them. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she says sheepishly, though she doesn’t sound _that_ sorry. “But Kiara told me you two met at an audition and that tonight was your first time going out in public together, so I just wanted to say good luck. I’m Angie, by the way.”

“Thanks,” JJ mutters, shaking her hand and hoping that he doesn’t seem too caught off guard. It’s a reminder that he’ll have to get used to people referring to Kiara and him as a couple. 

The stylist fawns over them for a few more minutes, then kicks JJ out so she can finish getting Kiara ready.

Kiara apologizes later, when they’re in the car on the way to the premiere, leans over to whisper in JJ’s ear while her mother is yelling at someone on the phone. 

“Sorry about earlier,” she says, and it takes him a second to understand what she’s talking about. “With Angie— honestly, I needed to get the whole story straight in my head for tonight, so I ran it by her first. I should have told you.”

JJ shakes his head, tells her it’s fine. Honestly, now that he’s in the car everything about this evening feels a lot more real, and he can’t bring himself to care about the earlier incident. 

Kiara opens her mouth to say something else, but then her mother presses her phone to her ear and says, “Sweetheart, left or right side for photos?”

“I don’t care.”

“She’ll take the left. And yes, as I was saying—”

Kiara’s mother had barely acknowledged JJ’s presence, giving him a brief nod before turning to smooth the skirt of her daughters dress and critique her choice of lipstick when they’d gotten in the car. JJ had thought it was a little strange, but he also wasn’t an expert on normal parental relationships, so he’d kept his opinion to himself.

It’s dark outside as they drive through the city, skyscrapers and buildings glowing against the night sky, and the streets are crowded enough that JJ almost doesn’t notice when the lines of people start to get thicker and the screaming starts to get louder.

Kiara’s mother gets out of the car first, and JJ catches a glimpse of a red-carpet and flashing lights and more people than he’s ever seen in his life before the door shuts behind her, the noise momentarily muffled. 

He turns to Kiara, searching for a joke to lighten the mood, but she honestly looks just as anxious as he feels. Her lip is trapped between her teeth and she’s clutching the seat so hard that her fingers are turning white, her breathing shaky. 

“Hey, are you okay?” JJ asks, taking one of her hands in his, running his thumb over her skin when he realizes that she’s trembling. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Kiara assures him, but her smile’s strained and she grips his hand a little tighter than normal before stepping out the door. “You sure you want to do this?”

JJ glances at their joined hands, then at the scene behind the tinted windows, and braces himself. “No going back, right?”

**Stylist shares details and inspiration behind Kiara Carrera’s look for the TIFF red carpet! View the spread here, as well as an exclusive interview with Kiara herself. **

To her surprise, Kiara actually enjoys the red carpet with JJ. 

She forces her momentary freak out in the car to the back of her mind, decides to address it later. Logically, Kiara knows it’s because she hasn’t been to an event like this since her breakup with Rafe, which adds another layer of anxiety on top of everything else, but the knowledge doesn’t make it any less frustrating— she shouldn’t get this stressed over seeing her ex, hates how much he affects her. 

She also hadn’t taken her medication this morning, ignored the text from Sarah and the alerts on her phone that reminded her to do so, told herself it was fine.

But it _was_ fine, because Kiara was used to pretending, so she plasters a smile on her face as she steps out of the car and ignores her sweaty palms and the tightness in her chest. 

It’s the normal scene— screaming fans, photographers leaning against the metal barriers and shouting demands at the celebrities on the carpet, a lot of flashing lights and enough noise to make someone go deaf. 

It helps that JJ hasn’t let go of her hand since they got out of the car. Kiara’s not sure why, but his presence is strangely comforting, a welcome relief from the constant critiques and whispered directions from her mother and publicist. It’s their job to navigate the chaos— she just goes where they tell her to. 

They move down the carpet in a dizzying haze of flashing cameras and frantic shouts from the photographers who are all desperate for the perfect shot. Even after all these years, Kiara still isn’t used to this. She tries her best— angles her chin like her mother always tells her to, sucks her stomach in and forces a smile on her face. 

The paparazzi seem excited by JJ’s presence, probably because he’s new and a mystery and Kiara isn’t known for bringing dates to public events. It’s difficult to make out anything coherent from what they’re shouting, just the jeers of encouragement when he wraps an arm around her waist and smiles for the cameras. 

JJ does seem a little overwhelmed by everything, eyes wide and a slightly stunned expression on his face at the sight of the people leaning over the railings of the balcony’s above, but for the most part he takes it all in stride. So he’s either genuinely enjoying himself, or he’s an even better actor than she thought.

In the back of her mind, Kiara wonders if the constant contact between them should bother her more. She’s always been fiercely independent, had never relied on anyone to get her through something like this besides Sarah, had actively protested her mother’s constant attempts at setting her up with a date. 

Her mom hadn’t even acknowledged JJ’s presence, visibly bitten her tongue when Kiara had told her to mark him down as her plus-one for the festival. She doesn’t want to consider how she would react if she learned the _real_ reason JJ was here.

And maybe there’s a part of Kiara that would have agreed with her mother if she’d told her this was a bad idea— JJ, the fake dating, all of it... but she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

Because it’s like JJ is reading her mind, knows exactly when she wants him to wrap an arm around her waist or place a hand on her back, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into Kiara’s bare skin whenever she takes a breath that’s a little too sharp, tugging on her hair when she starts to zone out, whispering a question or joke into her ear to distract her after her mother snaps at her to smile bigger or angle her torso to the side.

To be fair, Kiara is just as aware of him as he is of her. Every touch, every movement, how he smells like pine and something warm and musky, his blue eyes sparkling underneath the lights and his blonde hair so perfectly tousled it’s infuriating. He looks good in a suit, too. Not that she’s paying attention. 

Interviews are next, a task Kiara normally hates but semi-enjoys with JJ by her side. He charms all the reporters, answers their questions with ease when she pauses for just a moment too long, whispers sly comments in her ear that make her blush and fight the urge to smack him in public. 

He’s more relaxed than she thought he’d be, and Kiara wonders if all the commotion is sapping some of that extra energy he always seems to be carrying around with him.

Until one of the reporters asks her a question about Rafe, and JJ’s entire body stills. It may be Kiara’s imagination, but she’s almost positive he tugs her a little closer to his side.

“So, what are your thoughts on Rafe’s presence here tonight? Have you two had a chance to talk since the breakup?”

Her mother blacklisted Rafe’s name from the list of acceptable questions, but apparently this reporter hadn’t gotten the memo. 

Kiara opens her mouth to answer, but JJ beats her to it. 

“You know, Kiara was just telling me about this really intense scene she had to do for the movie,” he says, glaring subtle daggers at the guy interviewing her. “Weren’t you, babe?” 

JJ’s hand is hot against the slice of bare skin on the side of her dress, and Kiara may shiver as he tightens his grip, at the term of endearment he lets slip.

The reporter’s eyes light up at the word _babe_ , as he glances at the arm JJ has wrapped around Kiara’s waist, must notice that his tie matches her dress and there’s barely an inch of space between them. “Ah, I see. If you don’t mind me asking, Kiara, who’s the charming young man you brought as your date tonight?”

“He’s—”

Kiara wasn’t exactly sure how she was planning to finish that sentence, but she doesn’t have to worry, because JJ does it for her.

“Her boyfriend,” he says, flashing a smile that’s all teeth at the reporter. “Nice to meet you.”

The man nods, not-so-subtlety gesturing for the videographer to get a shot of them holding hands. Kiara’s not sure why— the paparazzi certainly snapped enough photos of them, he’ll have no trouble getting a copy.

JJ whispers the word _asshole_ in her ear as they walk away, and Kiara has to bite her tongue to keep herself from laughing, ignores the suspicious glance her mother sends their way.

The word _boyfriend_ is still hovering between them as they make their way inside, and Kiara realizes that _wow, they’re really doing this._

It’s not until after they’ve taken their seats in the theater that Kiara realizes she hasn’t thought about Rafe all evening.

**BREAKING: Kiara Carrera is no longer single; new-boyfriend JJ Maybank confirms they are in fact dating to Life & Style reporter on TIFF red carpet.**

The actual viewing of the movie is less stressful than the red carpet itself— mostly because Kiara only has a minor role, so she doesn’t have to watch herself on screen the entire time.

She introduces the film to the crowd, makes small talk with her costars who she hasn’t seen since they wrapped, then returns to her seat and steals a handful of the popcorn JJ had snatched from the concessions stand. He slaps her hand away, but holds the container out to her a moment later. Kiara’s mother is too busy chatting with one of the studio heads to notice. 

The movie is great— she’s only in a few scenes, but it’s this really beautiful story about love and loss and she’s proud to be a part of it. Her mother reaches over to squeeze her hand during an emotional scene where tears are streaming down her cheeks, and Kiara smiles at her.

JJ, to her surprise, manages to stay still for the majority of the film. She spends the first hour just watching his reactions to everything, steals more popcorn when he’s not looking. His hand moves to rest on her thigh towards the end, the casual contact almost natural now, and when the lights flick on he links their arms together as they exit the theater.

“You were amazing,” he whispers into her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

Kiara would be lying if she said it doesn’t make her blush. “You don’t have to say that.”

“No, I’m telling the truth. You were incredible.”

She smiles, takes JJ’s hand as they weave through the crowd toward a room where cocktails are being served. This part of the evening is meant to be more business than pleasure, an opportunity for producers and studio heads to talk and connect with actors and directors. 

It’s the kind of environment her mother thrives in, of course, and she presses a kiss to Kiara’s cheek before disappearing into the crowd. 

JJ is just standing awkwardly by her side, so she grabs two champagne flutes off a passing tray and offers him one. He downs it in one gulp, and Kiara gives him a hard nudge in the side, even though a part of her is dying to do the same.

She feels on edge, like she’s standing in a room full of hungry wolves, which isn’t that far off the mark if she’s being honest. 

And maybe she has a sixth sense or something, because just a moment later she hears someone call her name. 

“Kiara!”

Kiara freezes, her heart suddenly racing and every bone in her body screaming at her to flee. JJ notices her reaction, gives her a quick once over and places a hand on her arm, glances over his shoulder when he realizes nothing is physically wrong with her. 

She doesn’t even need to look, because that voice is permanently ingrained in her brain, and Kiara can feel the pit of dread in her stomach growing as she turns to face him.

Rafe.

He’s wearing a suit, his hair smoothed back and a disturbingly cheerful grin on his face, and he looks entirely different from the last time Kiara saw him, with bloodshot eyes and a beer-stained t-shirt, screaming at her in the parking lot outside her apartment.

But then again, Rafe’s always been good at using his looks and standing to hide the truth. He learned from the best, after all. 

“Rafe,” Kiara says, careful to keep her voice level, even though she wants nothing more than to disappear. “It’s... nice to see you.” 

“You too,” he croons, his grin almost manic, giving her a long once over that makes Kiara’s skin crawl. “You look good, Carrera. You always do.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs, pinching her lips together, reminding herself of how bad it would be if she punched Rafe in the face. Again. “I didn’t realize you’d be here tonight. What’s the occasion?”

It’s a lie— she’d known he would be here, had agonized over it for weeks. But Rafe didn’t need to know that.

“Well, when I heard your movie was premiering I just had to make room in my schedule,” Rafe says, smirking at her. As if the news that he’d rearranged his schedule to see her should make Kiara happy. “You know I’d never miss a chance to see you.“

He wasn’t even attempting to hide the fact that he was staring at her boobs as he said it, and Kiara instantly regrets choosing a dress with such a low cut. And then she feels guilty for feeling that way, because Rafe wasn’t her boyfriend anymore, and she didn’t owe him jack shit.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” she snaps, and Rafe’s smile momentarily falters at her harsh tone. “We broke up, Rafe. And if you didn’t get the message, I’m sure the tabloids can tell you. They did so enjoy dragging my name through the mud for _months_. How much money did your daddy pay to get you out of that one?”

She’s toeing a dangerous line, because any insult involving Ward Cameron is likely to set Rafe off, but Kiara’s done playing nice.

“You know,” Rafe hisses, shifting closer so that Kiara can smell the familiar, suffocating stench of his cologne. “I can’t stop thinking about how things ended between us. Such a shame... we really were good together. If only you’d been able to keep your _temper_ in check.”

“At least I’m not a fucking addict,” Kiara retorts, crossing her arms and refusing to back down from Rafe’s unbreaking stare. “You were so wasted that night I’m surprised you even made it to my apartment without crashing your bike, though that was nothing new. I’m curious, does Ward know how the prodigal son is spending his money?”

Rafe flinches, but when he speaks, his voice is velvet-smooth. “You need to learn when to bite your tongue, Carrera, if you ever want to make it in this town. Not everyone is forgiving as I am.”

_You never would have made it in this town, Kiara. Not without me, and not without my family._

Kiara’s not sure if his echoing of those words is intentional, but then Rafe smirks at her, and she decides it doesn’t matter. 

“Oh, yeah? _Make me,_ ” she snarls, the fact that they’re surrounded by the producers and directors she relies on for employment escaping her as the threat falls from her lips. 

This is getting ugly, and fast. And Kiara wants to stop herself, but she can’t, because this is just what Rafe does to her— he pulls her in, makes her forget herself.

She used to like that, being able to lose herself in him. Now, it scares her how easy it is to fall back into old patterns.

Rafe takes another step towards her, taps his cheek. “You know, I’m still a little sore from that hit of yours. You’ll have to make it up to me.”

Kiara’s blood goes hot in her veins at the insinuation, and she clenches her fists so hard that her nails dig into her skin, but before she can respond JJ clears his throat and steps forward, and Rafe’s attention shifts to him.

“And who’s this?” He asks, sizing JJ up with his normal air of distaste. “I didn’t know waiters were allowed to talk to the guests.”

It makes her want to scream, the ignorance of the comment, the nature of the insult, but JJ must sense that Kiara is about to explode because he leans into her, wraps an arm around her waist, and she doesn’t realize how tense she is until he places a hand on her shoulder and gives it a light squeeze, her muscles unwinding under his grip. It’s the opposite of Rafe— when they were together, Kiara always felt like she was either drowning or suffocating, but JJ’s touch is grounding. He doesn’t force it on her, but the offer is there, and she takes the hand that’s resting by her hip and slides her fingers into his, tilts her head towards his shoulder.

“JJ Maybank,” he says, that smile of his that’s all teeth back in place as he studies Rafe, the warmth gone from his blue eyes. And Kiara’s not one to find the whole overprotective boyfriend nonsense to be a turn-on, but she has to admit that the look on his face makes her shiver. “Her—“

“Boyfriend,” Kiara finishes, smiling at JJ before turning back to Rafe, feeling a burst of satisfaction when she notices the tight set of his mouth and his clenched fists. 

“Yep,” JJ confirms, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “That’s me. Rafe, is it? Funny, Kiara never talked much about you.”

“Is that right?” Rafe responds, eyes narrowing as he studies them, as if looking for cracks in their facade. “Well, I’m not surprised. Downgrading’s never any fun, is it?”

“I’m the one who’s surprised, actually,” JJ says, taking a step towards Rafe until they’re face to face, though his arm doesn’t leave her waist. “It turns out, you’re even more of an asshole that Kiara said you were.”

He speaks the words with a smile, and Rafe pauses, blinks once. As if he can’t believe that JJ is even talking to him. “Why, you little—“

Kiara tugs JJ away before he can finish, because the hand not around her waist is curled into a fist and they don’t need to start a brawl in the middle of the party. She purposefully shifts him to her left side so that he doesn’t have to walk past Rafe as they leave. 

“Nice seeing you, Rafe,” she croons in a falsely sweet voice as they pass, but then he grabs her wrist and pulls her away from JJ. 

He grins, leans in and whispers in her ear. “Good luck with that one, Kiara. He’ll realize who you really are soon enough, and then you’ll come crawling back to me like always.” 

Kiara flinches, and JJ’s at her side in an instant, snarling at Rafe to let her go, but even that seems to be coming from very far away as her breathing picks up and her hands start to shake.

Rafe let’s go of her arm, and JJ guides her away with a hand on her back, pulls them into an empty hallway. 

Kiara leans back against the wall, closes her eyes and tries to take a deep breath. But she’s still shaking, the adrenaline from her conversation with Rafe wearing off and his words taking root in her head.

Because maybe he’s right, and once JJ sees past the fame and money and understands who she really is, he’ll be done with her. And it’s stupid, because they only met a week ago, but Kiara cares about what he thinks of her. 

She doesn’t realize how short her breaths have gotten until JJ’s hand is on her shoulder and he’s staring at her, eyes filled with concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

The questions breaks the haze surrounding her thoughts, and Kiara forces herself to breathe, shoving back the incoming panic. “Yeah,” she sighs, her voice sounding faint even to her own ears. “Yeah, I’m good.”

JJ raises his eyebrows, obviously not believing her. “Are you sure, because—“

“I’m fine,” she insists, and it’s firm enough that he nods and let’s go of her arm, even though his lip is still trapped between his teeth and he’s scanning her from head to toe. “Seriously, JJ, I’m okay. It was just... a lot.”

JJ glances at the ground, as if he’s embarrassed. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I know I should have let you handle it. I just—“

Kiara shakes her head, takes his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “No, you were fine. I shouldn’t have started anything, but Rafe has the tendency to piss me off.”

“I can see why you wanted a buffer,” JJ says with a nod, his gaze hard as he studies the crowd of people Rafe had disappeared into. “He’s a grade-A douchebag.”

Kiara laughs, ignoring the fact that she hasn’t let go of JJ’s hand as she scans their surroundings, all of the people making small talk and pretending like they actually liked each other, and decides that the last place she wants to be is here.

“Want to get out of here?”

JJ’s head whips around to look at her, eyes wide. “Uh, I mean sure but... aren’t you kind of supposed to stay? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“Oh, I think that ship has sailed,” Kiara croons, taking a step towards JJ with a smile on her face. “And if you haven’t realized by now, breaking the rules is kind of my thing.”

**Kiara Carrera and Rafe Cameron were spotted talking at the TIFF after party: Is there a possibility of the stars rekindling their romance?**

The end of the evening is infinitely better than the start of it.

Kiara and JJ escape the festival in a blur of adrenaline-fueled laughter and avoiding the security guards that seem to be around every corner, slipping through the crowded streets and into a taxi. 

They end up exploring the city, walking through downtown Toronto and admiring the towering buildings and the lake in the distance. Kiara’s feet start to ache after a while, so they make an emergency trip to the shoe store where she buys a pair of sneakers.

JJ carries her heels in one hand, dramatically offers her his jacket when Kiara shivers in the chilly September air, and even though he smirks and makes another comment about wooing her, she tugs it over her shoulders and breathes in the scent of cologne that’s clinging to the fabric when he’s not looking. 

Eventually, JJ starts whining about how hungry he is, so they Google search a local food truck festival and eat dinner on the ground in the middle of some random park, the grass cold against Kiara’s bare legs and JJ’s jacket around her shoulders as they dig into greasy burgers and fries. It’s a sight that would make her mother go weak in the knees, but for one night, Kiara pushes those concerns to the back of her mind.

It’s easy to lose herself in JJ too, she realizes, but it’s different than how it was with Rafe. With him, she felt as if she was in danger of slipping away entirely, but JJ just makes Kiara feel like _herself_. Her old self— the girl who could spend an entire day fishing with sweaty skin and salt-soaked hair, who squeezed in guitar practice between homework and shifts at the Wreck.

And she _likes_ that Kiara, starts to think that it might be possible to be a combination of the person she was before all of this and who she is now. 

She forgets about Rafe entirely once they stumble into a bar, JJ’s arm around her shoulders as he orders their drinks. He’s much more relaxed than he was earlier, his movements slower and less jumpy, like he’s no longer expecting security to escort him from the premises.

And after a few glasses of wine and a shot of whiskey, Kiara is fairly relaxed herself, tries to drag JJ onto the dance floor with her. He shakes his head and gestures to his drink, eyes hazy as he watches her disappear into the crowd. 

It’s the freest she’s felt in ages, and maybe Kiara’s a little drunk when some fans ask her for a picture, but she’s over twenty-one so it shouldn’t be a big deal.

Her mother would certainly disagree, but she doesn’t want to think about that, purposefully mutes her phone so she won’t see her texts and feel guilty. 

They leave close to midnight, falling into a taxi together, and it’s so similar to the last time they did this that Kiara gets déjà-vu.

But it is a little different this time, because instead of dropping JJ off at his apartment, they arrive at the same hotel and he waits on the curb while she tips the driver, and Kiara throws an arm around his shoulders as they stumble through the hotel lobby.

They’re nowhere near blackout drunk, nothing that her mother would blatantly disapprove of, but Kiara’s fuzzy enough that she doesn’t read the number on the hotel room door, forgets where the key in her hand came from as she slides it into the lock.

JJ and her fall onto the bed side by side, and she faintly recognizes that the sheets kind of smell like him and his jacket is thrown over the back of a nearby chair, but Kiara’s vision is blurry and she feels all warm inside with JJ’s arm pressed against hers, so she doesn’t try and understand what that means too hard.

“Thank you,” she whispers into the air when she’s on the cusp of sleep, her head tilted towards JJ as he hums and nods without opening his eyes. “You were a great fake-boyfriend, or whatever. I’m sorry you had to deal with... everything.”

“It’s all good,” JJ mumbles, his voice thick with sleep, and Kiara doesn’t even try to pretend that’s she’s not staring at him, the slope of his nose and tousled hair and blond eyelashes. “You weren’t so bad yourself, just so you know.”

They stop talking after that, and Kiara should know better, should say goodnight before things get any more complicated, but JJ’s so warm and she’s exhausted, so she closes her eyes and let’s sleep pull her under. She vaguely remembers a promise they made about not sharing a bed, the word _unprofessional_ lingering in the back of her mind. 

But it’s not until the next morning, when Kiara wakes up with her head on JJ’s chest and still wearing yesterday’s clothes, that she realizes she’s broken one of her own rules. 

And maybe it’s bad, but Kiara can’t bring herself to care. 

**Kiara Carrera and JJ Maybank make official debut as a couple at TIFF! Get all the pics here. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y’all enjoyed!! i’m going to be working on stuff for jiara july for the next couple of weeks, so if this fic is a bit delayed that’s why. don’t forget to leave comments/kudos if you liked this chapter :) thanks for reading!


End file.
